


The One that took Two

by FlynnWriter



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gun Violence, Hurt Derek, Hurt/Comfort, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:40:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 28
Words: 47,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23436328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlynnWriter/pseuds/FlynnWriter
Summary: Morgan's morning coffee at a small diner takes a turn for the worse when a gunman comes in, creating a hostage situation that is in no way routine. When tragedy strikes, will Morgan be able to overcome it? (Some Morgan whump, much Morgan angst, no romance.)Cross posted on ff.net under same name
Comments: 8
Kudos: 25





	1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1  
Morgan was waiting below the striped overhang of the diner, sitting on a bench just outside the door. A mid-April chill made the wind nippy, but it felt good to bask in spring’s first rays of sunshine. Piles of mucky snow melted into the gutters, gurgling in the background of the bustling street. It seemed like everyone was out this morning, taking advantage of the first nice weather in months, just as Morgan was doing. He wrapped his leather jacket closer around himself, wishing his friend would get there soon so they could go inside. He saw Eli down the street, striding towards him, and waved. The young African-American man smiled widely, waving back and walking faster. “My man Eli!” Morgan said, shaking his hand. “How have you been, kid? I haven’t seen you in ages!”

Eli grinned happily. “Sup Derek! I’ve been good. Going to college.”

“So I heard! Hey, let’s go inside. I’ve been waiting on you forever.” The diner wasn’t much warmer, but at the very least it was out of the wind. As they ordered, and Eli pulled out his wallet to pay, Morgan chuckled. “It’s on me, Joe College. You’re going to lose enough money paying for tuition and board.”

“Thanks, man. And you know, thanks for meeting me.” Eli tucked the wallet into his back pocket and picked up the steaming mug of coffee, inhaling deeply.

“Eli, I can’t say no to my mama. When she told me you were coming down here, to play football no less, I was game. How’s Sarah?” Morgan had known Eli’s mom since high school, and had kept in touch with her family ever since then.

“She’s good. Sad that I’m going so far away, you know, but…” He trailed off as they sat down at a table near the front window, and Morgan finally got a chance to appraise the kid that sat in front of him. Everything about him seemed older than the last time they had seen each other. He was taller, and had gotten a new haircut. His jeans no longer bore the rips and stains of a few years earlier, and his University of Maryland sweatshirt looked brand new. His sneakers were pretty much the same as they had always been, a flashy brand-name pair of basketball shoes.

“So you got some good scholarships?” Morgan asked.

Eli’s face lit up. “Yeah, the center’s got some pretty good connections. I got a football scholarship. It’s not big, but…” 

“Big enough, I get it.” The hair on Morgan’s arms rose when Eli mentioned football. “Did Buford coach you?”

“Just for two years. I was never his…favorite.” Eli said. He looked uncomfortable, as if this privilege had somehow caused his friends’ pain. “But I was good enough. Once we got a new coach, he trained me and helped me to try out for the University of Maryland team.”

“Yeah, I heard he was a good guy. I’ll stop back the next time I’m in the neighborhood.” Morgan took a sip of his coffee, the hot bitterness zapping his system with a burst of caffeine.

“You’re a legend there.” Eli smiled and took a bite of his sandwich. “When I tell kids you were the one to teach me to play football…” He whistled under his breath. “Man, are they impressed. I’m surprised your picture’s not on the wall or something.”

“Eh, I made them take it down.” Morgan teased. “But it’s your turn to make a name for yourself. Nobody knows me at U Maryland. Well, I’ve guest lectured there, but other than that…nobody.” He leaned back in his chair, clasping his hands behind his head. 

Eli chuckled. “A new start. God, I can’t wait to sign.” 

“It’s too bad your mom couldn’t be down here this weekend too.”

“She took a second job, so she’s pretty busy. She’s for sure going to be here to help me move in, though. Pre-season starts in July.”

“I’ll come out to help you move in too; I’d love to see Sarah again. What the…” He had spotted something out of the corner of his eye. At the counter, a customer in the front of the line was jiggling nervously, fiddling with something in his pocket. “Eli, stay here…” Morgan stood up quietly, following his instincts and walking slowly towards the cashier. The man moved to the front of the line and said something inaudible to the red-headed waitress at the cash register, who yelled back into the kitchen. The shabbily-dressed teen appeared to be around Eli’s age, but skinnier. His jacket was old and wrinkled, and his jeans were ratty and torn. He looked up as a girl walked out of the kitchen, and smiled in relief. 

Her face, though, was less than pleased. Morgan could clearly hear her; her voice carried through the diner. “Just get out of here! I’m working, Flak. Please, just go, we can talk later.” Suddenly, the boy’s face twitched with anger. Before Morgan could stop him, he slid a Glock 19 out of his pocket, shooting her in the chest. Morgan jerked forward, but was too late by long seconds. He heard the shot echoing disjointedly in his eardrums, and saw the girl fall backwards into the espresso machine. Blood and coffee pooled on the ground around her and soaked into her clothes. The bullet had struck her just above the heart, and immediately Morgan could tell that she was dead.  
The chaos unfolded in front of him, but Morgan turned his focus onto the shooter. The kid looked confused and shocked by his own actions, and stumbled as he walked back towards the door and Morgan took advantage of his pause, walking towards him. His hand snaked to his hip, finding the empty space where his holster usually was; but he had left his service weapon at home today. “FBI!” He called out, holding up his badge instead. “Drop the gun, sir. No one else needs to be hurt today.”

The boy’s face lost all color that it had left, and he aimed the gun shakily at Morgan. “No…what? What are you doing here?” He tripped over an abandoned purse as he moved backwards, but kept his balance.

“Just put the gun down, and we can talk.” Morgan’s presence had unnerved the kid, and he took another small step closer.

“Get away!” The teen sputtered, waving the gun wildly. The gun discharged again, into the wall, but it could have been accidental; Glock 19’s were known for their hair triggers. 

The second shot only incensed the commotion in the diner, and Morgan could barely hear the gunman, even though he was shouting. But Morgan’s powerful voice cut through the melee. “Everybody freeze!” People stopped where they were, trying to cower behind tables and chairs. “Please, just remain calm.” The gunman walked towards the door, blocking the exit. He fumbled as he locked the door, and as his back was turned, Morgan stepped closer. He felt, rather than saw, Eli sneak behind him.

“Just calm down, sir.” Morgan said, capturing his attention again. “I’m sure we can figure this out.”

“She cheated on me.” The gunman said disbelievingly. “I had to. I…I…she…” His eyes were terrified and bloodshot, roving madly around the room, and Morgan wondered if he was high. “And then she lied to my face! It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. You weren’t…I didn’t…she…”

“What do you want to do?” He kept his voice expertly even, not allowing even a ripple of emotion in. Holding his hands defensively, he inched forward again, within five or six feet of the weapon.

“I just wanted to talk to her…But she…she…” The sobs and whispers in the diner were unnerving the boy, and he turned the gun on a small woman cowering in the corner. “Stop crying!” He screamed, but her sobs only intensified. He held one hand over his ear, the semi-automatic still in his other hand. “Make them stop! Stop! STOP!” He jammed the gun closer, and once again, Morgan felt dread flood through him as saw what was going to happen a second too late.

“Drop the gun!” He cried, running towards him. The boy’s finger twitched, and Morgan heard the shot at the same time he saw the stain bloom on the woman’s stomach. He lunged towards the gunman, but felt something else as he moved…a sharp pain in his right side and a massive impact that spun him sideways onto the ground.

“Derek!” Eli cried out, running to Morgan. He was lying on his back, excruciating pain building in his side. Morgan could feel the exact point of entrance, like a small molten sun exploding into millions of stars, a supernova in his abdomen. He cried out, finding the small hole with his hand.

“Nobody move!” The gunman roared. 

“Eli,” Morgan panted, sitting up. “Stay behind me. I’m fine.” He could feel blood filling his hand, and pressed tighter against the hot gushes. He turned to the boy, who was only becoming more frantic by the second. “Sir, calm down, please. Put down your weapon.”

“No…” The boy muttered. Sirens echoed in the distance, and judging by the boy’s twitching and wild eyes, cops were a hindrance rather than a help. “No…this isn’t happening.” Morgan could see him struggling to make a plan in his tweaked-out mind. “Um…Everybody, get in front of the windows. If anyone tries to leave, I’ll shoot.” People scurried towards the floor to ceiling windows in the front of the café, standing where Morgan and Eli had been sitting not a minute earlier. The boy ran to check the lock on the door, fear hanging on his thin face.

“Derek, you’re shot.” Eli whispered. The gunman was distracted arranging his human shield, so Morgan took the chance to look at his side. “It must have ricocheted.” Morgan carefully removed his hand, and looked at the single, round hole, clear through his jacket. Another heartbeat sent blood gushing out the wound again, and Morgan quickly replaced his hand. He swallowed the nausea, and calmly looked at Eli’s scared face.

“It’s not serious.” He reassured the boy. “Eli, is there an exit wound?” He leaned forward, but the back of his shirt was clean.

“No, nothing. Is it…it’s still in there?” Eli asked, swallowing hard.

“Apparently. That’s not good.” He thought quickly, but he couldn’t see many options. He could barely lean forward without feeling like losing his breakfast. “I need you to get me some napkins or towels. Grab them from the counter.” As Eli crawled away, though, the gunman turned back around.

“You!” Eli shrank back behind Morgan. “Stand with the rest of them. Get your friend over to the window too.” He pointed with his gun to the last window, which was only partially covered by the skinny, red-headed waitress that had been working the counter. “Do it now!” He yelled. 

“Do it, Eli.” Morgan gasped. “Everybody do what he says.” He called out louder. A couple of people nodded, but most were too terrified to even acknowledge him. Eli helped Morgan stand, and he stumbled over to the window. Eli set Morgan against the wall and stood up next to the girl, who was shaking. She gave him a tiny smile and glanced at Morgan, who was trying stay upright. A puddle of blood was forming beneath his side, the glossy red splotch staining everything it could touch. The floor was dirty and dusty, a coating that hadn’t seen a broom in years, and the curling wallpaper behind Morgan’s back wasn’t much better. “Now what?” Morgan asked loudly.

“Now we wait.” The kid said, pacing. “I need to get out of here.”

Morgan could feel blood seeping from the hole, and the first seed of doubt crept into his mind. If they waited much longer…well, he didn’t want to think about what would happen.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2  
Police cars pulled up to the front of the restaurant, their tires squealing and sirens blaring. Morgan could see the commotion, but none of his familiar black SUVs had arrived, not that he had expected them too. Morgan turned his attention back to the gunman, who was sitting at a table, his leg jiggling. “Hey Kid.” Morgan called. He looked up once, but didn’t respond. “What’s your name, kid?”

“Stop calling me kid.” He muttered, scratching his head. “I’m not a kid.”

“Alright, I’m sorry.” Morgan assented. “Tell me your name and I’ll call you something else. My name’s Derek.”

“You can call me Flak. As in the jacket.” He sniffed, running his hand under his nose. Morgan could tell that although he wasn’t a gangster, he was sure as hell trying to be one. He seemed to be coming down from a coke high, but Morgan guessed he wasn’t a regular user.

“Alright, Flak.” Morgan said. “I work for the FBI. I’m bleeding here, and it isn’t going to look too good for you if I die, so do you think my man Eli here can help me?”

“No! He stays where he is. I…uh…what do you need?” 

Morgan looked down at his shirt, and frowned. The pain wasn’t so bad if he didn’t move, but half of his shirt was already soaked through with blood, and it wasn’t stopping anytime soon. His tongue felt like a dry brick in his mouth, and a dizzy headache was lurking at the back of his mind. “Dishtowels, and water. Gatorade, if there is any.”

“I’m not going back into the kitchen so they can escape.” Flak spat. “Try again.”

“She can go!” Eli interrupted, nudging the girl next to him. “I’m so big, I’ll cover the whole window. She can get the stuff. The waitress nodded timidly, stepping out.

“Go.” Flak said, knowing he was out of other options. “Come back quickly, or I’ll shoot him.” The gun shook in his hand as he pointed it at Morgan’s head. Morgan turned away, gazing out the windows where the police were organizing. The waitress ran to the kitchen, determination covering her face. She disappeared into the kitchen, and they waited for what seemed like forever. “Come on!” Flak shouted, and she walked back out, carrying a bottle of blue Gatorade and some towels. 

“Sorry, sorry. I’m back.” She flushed. “Can I help him now?” Flak nodded mutely, walking to the other side of the diner. “No funny business now,” he called over his shoulder. He walked behind the hostages, trailing his gun along the back of their necks.

“The towels.” Morgan told her. “Fold one up. Give it to me.” Grimacing in pain, he tucked it underneath his hand. “What’s your name?” He whispered.  
“Linnea Ericcson. Cassie and I worked together.” She motioned to the counter.

“Cassie was the girl who was shot?” Morgan asked, leaning his head against the wall. His voice was hoarse, and losing volume with every word. “Did she know him?”

“Yeah.” She breathed. “She and Flak used to date. I don’t really know what happened between them.” She tucked a tendril of red hair behind her ear. “You want some Gatorade?”

“Help me.” Morgan breathed. She checked over her shoulder to see Flak still pacing on the other side of the small store, and looked up to Eli, who was glancing back down at them. He nodded, looking back out the window. Linnea held the bottle to Morgan’s lips, tipping it back slowly. Some of the liquid dribbled out of the corner of his mouth, and she gently wiped it away. “Is there a back door?” Morgan whispered.

“Yes, but it’s completely blocked. We haven’t used it in years.” Morgan shook his head, and she held the bottle up to his lips again. He swallowed thirstily and glanced out the window, breathing slowly. The first chills characteristic of blood loss invaded his body, and he shivered. 

“Are you okay?” Her voice seemed distant, although he could see her lips moving. He shook his head and concentrated on calming his body down. He watched the organized chaos out the window, people flowing and ebbing like a noisy tide.

“More. I have to keep my fluids up.” A camera flash from outside the window caught his eye, and he craned to see where it had come from. Someone was taking picture of the hostages to identify them, and Morgan had an idea. He put his hand on her leg to get her attention. “On my belt. There’s a badge. Grab it.” She pulled it off, and gave it to him. He leaned it against the window, hoping to catch the attention of the officers outside. “They don’t know I’m FBI.”

“What’re you doing?” Flak said suspiciously, eyeing Morgan and Linnea whispering on the ground. 

“Relax, Flak. She’s just trying to help me.” Morgan looked down at the towel at his side, and was relieved to see that it had somewhat stemmed the flow. As long as he didn’t move too much, he would be fine.

“Get away from him.” Flak yelled, pointing the gun at her. She stepped back up next to Eli, but pressed her back against the pane of glass instead of facing out, keeping her concerned gaze trained on Morgan. “Turn around.” Flak commanded, shoving her. She lost her balance and fell into Eli, who stumbled but caught her and stood her up again. 

Morgan knew that the cops outside would try to begin negotiation soon, but he already had a connection and he hated to lose it. “Flak?” The boy turned towards him, and Morgan could tell he was definitely coming down from whatever he was on. “Hey man. Do you want to tell me why we’re here?”

“I need to get out. You’re my ticket home,” He said, rubbing his forehead. “Cassie wasn’t supposed to die. I just wanted to talk.”

Then why did you bring a gun? Morgan wanted to ask him. He swallowed it, and kept talking. “I get that, Flak. I can tell you just wanted to talk. But Cassie’s dead now. You can’t fix that. But you can still get out of here a free man.”

“What about her?” The boy’s voice was even and distant, but still oddly tender. It was obvious that the second woman wasn’t meant to die, and this boy wasn’t the raging psychopath that the BAU team typically hunted. The body was slumped against the opposite wall, the wallpaper behind her stained a deep maroon. It had been a messy death, blood spurting as her heart fought to beat, eventually giving up in a dramatic thump. Everyone in the diner had watched it happen in horrified silence, except Flak. Morgan took another shallow breath, feeling the intense pain shooting up and down his side again. “What happened?”

“I don’t know, I just…just panicked.” He stared at the gun in his hand, running a finger over the smooth, deadly mechanics.

“We can stop this, you know.” Morgan said slowly, trying to find a connection with him. “If you surrender now, we can make this all go away.”

“I don’t surrender.” Flak mocked, acid coating his tongue. Morgan closed his eyes in frustration, Flak wasn’t taking his bait. Somehow, he needed a new tactic. “I have a plan.” Flak continued, turning his back on Morgan.

“You have a plan?” Morgan said, wincing as he tried to sit up straight. He kept sliding down the tiled wall as he lost strength, but he needed to stay upright as long as possible. “You want to explain that to me kid?”

“I told you not to call me kid!” He yelled, flying into a rage again. His nostrils flared, and he began pacing, swinging the gun nervously around the room. “Why aren’t you listening to me?!”

“Flak, calm down. It was a mistake.” Morgan said. His hand was starting to cramp from holding the towel so tightly, and he shivered uncontrollably now. His voice was weaker, his strength slowly seeping away with the blood. “Flak, I really need some help. Can Linnea help me again?”

“No! She needs to stay at the window. She’s my assurance!”

Eli, who had stayed silent until now, turned and looked Flak directly in the face. He towered over the boy, and even though Flak had a gun, Eli’s strength and power were intimidating. “Look at him, man. He’s dying. If you won’t let us help him, than you do it yourself.” Flak looked between Morgan and Eli, hesitating for a second too long. “You’re just letting him die.” Eli spat. 

“Fine!” Flak agreed. He aimed his gun at Linnea, his finger sliding down to the trigger. “Help him.” She fell to his side, putting another towel over the first one, which had turned a deep maroon, like it had been dipped in dye. She went for the Gatorade again, but the bottle was nearly empty.

“Flak, we need another bottle.” She pleaded.

“No! That’s all you get. I’m not letting you go back again.” She exhaled in frustration, but held the bottle up to Morgan’s lips, letting the last of the Gatorade drip onto his tongue. His lips were dry and losing their color.

“I’m cold.” Morgan sighed. It was unnecessary, though, because even Flak could see how much he was shaking. Linnea grabbed a jacket off the back of a chair, and draped it over Morgan’s chest, tucking it in around him as best she could. As she jostled him a little bit, Morgan closed his eyes and stared out the window, going to another place, away from the pain. Suddenly he saw them…three black SUVs, pulling onto the scene. They were here. His team, his friends…his rescuers.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3  
It had only been an hour and a half since the whole debacle had started, yet to everyone involved it felt like so much longer. The whimpers of the hostages had turned into mutinous whispers, and a couple of the men were talking and glancing at Flak surreptitiously. The boy had sat down in a chair, his leg jiggling again. It was obvious that he was no longer high, but Morgan wasn’t sure of what sort of personality the boy had while sober. Flak simply watched the windows and waited, for what no one was sure.

But with the arrival of the FBI, the atmosphere outside had picked up a sort of buzzing hopefulness. Morgan could see his team pile out of the SUVs, beginning their work. Hotch went up to the lead detective, who pointed towards Morgan’s badge in the corner window. Immediately, he and Morgan locked eyes, and Hotch motioned the rest of team over. Their eyes flickered to him every couple of seconds, staring for a while before turning back to Hotch. Garcia came out of the van, and gasped when she saw Morgan in the window. Morgan saw Alex led her away from the group, talking to her and calming her down. She glanced over her shoulder too and Morgan managed a weak grin, wiggling his eyebrows, but she didn’t smile back. JJ got his attention, miming a gun and mouthed “How bad?”, making a one and five with her fingers.

He understood and slowly held up five fingers, the simple act of which had become a laborious task. JJ nodded mutely and told Hotch, a newfound fear covering her face. 

Hotch picked up the bullhorn and his voice suddenly roared into the diner. “David Helmsley?”

Flak’s head shot up, and he walked to the windows to peer out at the distraction from in between hostages. His face was livid, like he had been caught off guard. David Helmsley must have been his real name; in the back of his mind Morgan wondered how they had found him. “David Helmsley.” Hotch continued, his voice as authoritative and powerful as ever. “I’m going to call the diner phone. I need you to pick it up.” Seconds later, the phone rang, and Flak looked at it blankly. 

“Linnea.” Flak called, beckoning her over. The gun had been in his hand the whole time, and it was obvious that he was starting to get comfortable with it as he held it next to her neck, finger on the trigger. He cleared his throat and stood taller “Answer it.”

But Linnea wasn’t as scared as she as before; her stark fear had been replaced with even more pressing concern. She quickly picked up the phone. “Hello?”

“Put it on speaker.” Flak barked, and she set the receiver down, grasping the counter with both hands.

“Who is this?” A voice asked. Morgan sighed in relief when he recognized the practiced tone, a passively patient voice that could only belong to Agent Aaron Hotchner. Morgan couldn’t begin to imagine the repercussions if an inexperienced hostage negotiator made a mistake. No, the only people he trusted when his life was on the line were his own.

“Linnea Ericcson. I’m a waitress here.” Her knuckles were white, and she glanced back at Morgan and Eli for reassurance.

“Linnea, is David listening in?”

“Of course I am,” he growled, leaning over to talk into the phone. “What, you think I’m stupid enough to let a hostage talk on the phone without listening?”

“That’s not what I was implying, David. It was just a question.” Hotch’s voice was calm and collected, his cool demeanor making him sound authoritative, but not threatening. Morgan had long admired his ability as a negotiator, and he was eternally grateful that Hotch was on the line instead of himself.

“My name’s Flak. I haven’t been David in years.” He was standing over Linnea, still for the first time that afternoon. 

“Alright Flak. My name is Aaron Hotchner. Can you tell me if anyone is hurt in there?”

“You already know there is. One of your guys.” Morgan looked down at his side, and knew that ‘hurt’ could only begin to cover what was really going on. It didn’t even hurt anymore, really. The pain was dulling, his senses slowly shutting down to preserve what mattered.

“We need to get him medical attention. Release him and the other hostages, and we can talk about what you want, one on one.”

Flak snorted. “Aren’t you supposed to ask me what I want before you start negotiating?” His arrogance was growing, and his cooperating was diminishing accordingly. This was the dangerous part of negotiation; the more confident the unsub, the harder it is to talk them down.

Linnea, long forgotten by Flak, was glancing over her shoulder fearfully, and Morgan followed her stare to the three men who were muttering earlier. They were turned and blatantly watching, and one of them took a step away from the window. Morgan felt a sense of dread growing in his stomach, and spoke up. “Hotch, we’re all okay in here. We’re just waiting for you.” The men looked at him, and he shook his head firmly. Flak was still obsessed by the phone, and missed their silent exchange after Morgan’s comment. The men turned back to the window, not fully convinced, but dissuaded out of their plan. 

“You heard him.” Flak spat. “It’s up to you. Here’s what I want. One of your FBI SUVs outside the door. I’m keeping a hostage to drive me away. I’ll drop him off, unharmed, once I’m sure there’s no one following me.” Despite the confidence in Flak’s voice, Morgan could point out thirteen loopholes in his plan, and sighed in relief. Maybe this would be easier than he thought.

“You know I can’t just let you take a hostage, Flak.” 

“You know I can’t just let go of all my hostages, Aaron.” Flak mocked. He slammed the receiver down into the cradle, and turned to survey the room. Morgan glimpsed Hotch out the window, looking directly at him again, his face concerned. He mimed something with his hands, moving them up and down, but it didn’t make sense in Morgan’s distracted brain. As Hotch tried again, Morgan was suddenly overcome by dizziness, and he dry heaved before he could stop himself. Nothing came out, but the pain radiated through his side, tearing at the muscles in his abdomen. The combined nausea of the dizziness and pain attacked his senses; it was all he could think about.

“Flak.” He gasped, holding his free hand over his eyes. “Flak listen to me, man. I gotta lie down. I need help.” Before he could protest, Morgan cut him off, his hard voice scaring the boy into submission. “Now.”

Linnea ran over, helping him lay down on the floor. As he fell onto his back, Morgan swallowed his scream of pain. He could feel his team watching him from outside the glass, observing the scene through cracks in the legs of the hostages. The tile was hard and oddly comforting, but it was freezing against his bare head. “Cold.” He murmured, and Linnea grabbed more coats, piling them on top of him. She took off her navy blue apron, bunching it up and sliding it under Morgan’s head. “You need to keep pressure on my side…I can’t do it…” Her face was white, but he was sure that his own looked worse. “More.” He grunted, and she pressed harder, sending waves of agony through his abdomen. The nausea had subsided, though, and he noticed the phone was ringing. Flak was standing next to it, hand hovering over the receiver.

“Pick it up, man.” Eli said, looking over his shoulder. “My friend is dying in here.”

“Shut up!” Flak shouted. His hand shook nervously, belying his uncertainty about the new developments. “Just give me a minute…” Taking a deep breath, he slowly brought the phone to his ear. “Agent Hotchner.” He said, his tone morphing into an oddly assertive voice. “Here’s what’s going to happen.”


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4  
“I’m going to instruct my hostages to close the curtains. Then, they are going to walk out the door. You are not going to come in, because I will be holding your agent and Eli. In fifteen minutes, when my SUV is ready, you will call me again. I won’t pick up, but that will be the sign for Eli and me to go for a little drive. You will not follow. Is that clear?” Without waiting for a response, he hung up. “Well that was fun, wasn’t it?” There was a genuine smile on his face, like he was enjoying the situation before him.

His sudden change of demeanor was alarming, and Morgan suspected that he felt completely in control of what was going on, possibly for the first time in his life. “Well you heard me.” Flak said. “Close the blinds. All the way, make sure they can’t see in.” The hostages obeyed at once, desperate to get out. The café was obscured in half-darkness, split by shafts of sunlight. Eli closed the curtain in front of his window in one smooth motion and went to take over for Linnea, putting even more pressure on the bloody towels. She sat back on her heels, wiping her hands on her jeans.

“Hey man. How are you doing?” Eli asked gently, trying to smile despite the fear that Morgan could see dancing in his eyes.

“Good.” Morgan choked out. His neck was straining in pain. “Eli…”

“Don’t talk, Derek. Just relax. The FBI’s going to get us out of here. Your team’s the best, remember?” Morgan could see Flak walking over, pressing the barrel of his gun against Eli’s neck. The young football player froze, still keeping pressure over the bloody towels. Flak looked around at the hostages, making snap decisions in his head.

“Alright. This is the way it works. You four, on the far left, you go first. Let the door close behind you.” The door opened as the hostages stepped out making the chime above the door jingle and jump. “You three next.” Flak said, pointing the gun at a group of young girls. They shuddered and opened the door, quickly running out into the street. This dance went on for five minutes, each exit accompanied by the cheery sound of the chimes on the door, until everyone was out but Linnea, Eli, and Morgan. “Linnea.” Flak said, walking over. “You’re the last one. Eli’s going to lock the door behind you.”

“Flak, I’m not leaving without them. He’s dying.” She pleaded. By now, her hands and jeans were covered with Morgan’s blood. 

“I can see that.” Flak said, coming up behind her and heaving her to her feet. “But it’s time for you to leave.”

“Go, Linnea.” Morgan rasped. “We’ll be okay.” She walked out the door, squinting into the bright sunlight. Her steps were loud in the still, dark room, and Morgan could feel the reverberations on the floor where he lay.

She paused to look back over her shoulder, but Flak yelled, “Keep going! Leave!” He turned to Eli. “Lock the door.” Eli paused, but Morgan nodded, and Eli went to lock the door.

“We’re alone now, Flak.” Morgan said. He closed his eyes, concentrating solely on his negotiations. “What now?” Morgan’s head spun, even when he didn’t move, and although he couldn’t feel the pain anymore, he was getting a massive headache. 

“Now…” Flak mused. “We create a distraction.” He was pacing around the kitchen, examining random tools and appliances. Metal clanged on metal and cupboard doors opened and closed in quick succession, like he was looking for something. “This will work.” Flak muttered to himself, just out of Morgan’s line of sight.

“Flak, man, what are you doing?” Eli asked. 

“Just…shut up. Shut up. Be quiet, I have to think.”

Eli leaned down, close to Morgan’s head. “He’s getting chemicals. And, um…a metal cylinder? Like whipped cream?”

“Oh God.” Morgan breathed. “He’s trying to build a bomb.” They were silent for a moment, watching and listening intently as Flak mixing his ingredients. The gun lay next to him on the counter, but not out of his reach. “Eli…” Morgan started quietly, staring into his young eyes. “I am so proud of you, man.”

“No, Derek. Don’t…you can’t….you’re not going to die.” Eli said, pressing harder against Morgan’s side. 

“Eli, just listen to me. Go to U Maryland, and play the best football you’ve ever played. You have come so far, and you still have a ways to go.”

“Derek…” He pleaded. “Don’t give up. You still have time.” Tears began to gather in his eyes, and in Morgan’s too.

“Tell my team that it was…an honor for me to work with them. Tell Penelope that I died thinking of her, and that I love her. And Reid…tell Reid that the only thing I want for him is to stay strong.” Eli was listening silently, and Morgan was thinking of everyone he missed. There were too many people to thank and to love, and too little breath to do it. “Take care of Sarah. Check in on my mom sometimes, and my sisters. Tell them I love them, and I am so proud of everything they’ve done.” The tears were falling now, fast and hot. “Promise me, Eli. Promise me.”

Eli nodded, slowly finding his voice. “I promise. I got your back, man.” They rested silently for a moment. 

Morgan tried to lift his head, but it felt like it weighed a million pounds. “What’s he doing, Eli? I need specifics. I can’t see.”

“I can’t see the bottles. Something from the stove, I think, and some disinfectant. Bleach, maybe? He looks like he knows…how to make them, like he researched it or something. He just went and got like…tongs or something. He’s got matches?”

“Matches?” Morgan’s heart skipped a beat. Whatever Flak was planning, it would go boom…big time.

“A whole box. And a lighter….and a clock?” With everything Morgan heard, his heart sank. He had known for a while that he had little to no chance of getting out of here, but now it seemed Eli was joining him.

“Flak?’ He asked. “Flak, I need you to think about this. Are you really going to kill us? There’s more than just our lives at stake right now.”

“I’m not going to kill you.” He looked at Morgan strangely, then returned to his work. “I told you, this is just a distraction.”

“Then why do you need a timer?” Morgan asked, confused. Not much was getting through clearly to his pain-befuddled mind, but one thing he could tell was that Flak genuinely did not want him to die. It was oddly comforting to Morgan, even though he knew that the plan would take a miracle to work. But Flak was confident he could fix the situation.

“See, the timer is to give them time to rescue you. I worked it all out. I’ll set the timer, and they’ll have time to come in and get you and Eli, but not to dismantle the bomb, so they’ll leave me here. But what they don’t know is that it’s more of a boom than a bang, so I’ll have time to get out the back while they are taking cover.” He looked up again, and beamed. “Brilliant, huh?”

Morgan only nodded, but he tried to watch his actions carefully. His head was cloudy, and he was beyond cold now…he was numb. The tremors rolled through his body ceaselessly, each time making Morgan clench his fists and purse his lips to keep from screaming. “Flak… can Eli get me another Gatorade?” He managed, breathing shallowly.

“Yeah, sure, I guess.” He responded distractedly. He stared eagerly at the device in his hands, rolling it around to make sure the final adjustments were in place.

Morgan tilted his head, and Eli knelt next to it, listening to his soft whispers. “Eli. The fridge is next to the counter. This is important. If, and only if, Flak’s distracted, go for the gun. If he’s watching you in any way, leave it, come back.”

“Derek, if I take any pressure off the wound, you’re done.” His face was set. 

“I can hold it until you come back. It won’t take long.” Morgan didn’t have the heart to tell him that it probably wouldn’t take long either way.

“I don’t think I can do it, Derek.” For the first time, Morgan heard a small tremble in his voice.

“I’m bleeding out, Eli. I’m not going to make it out if we wait much longer. This is the only chance we get.” His weak voice steeled Eli’s spirit.

“Okay. I’ll go. Give me your hand.” He guided Morgan’s hand to cover his side, and Morgan pressed as hard as he could. From his vantage on the floor, he could see it all. Eli took a deep breath as he walked towards the fridge, keeping his eyes straight ahead of him. Morgan prayed desperately in his head, but didn’t dare close his eyes. Eli opened the refrigerator door, glancing over the top at the gun laying on the counter. He took out the Gatorade, and walked back towards Morgan. As he reached the counter, though, he reached out his hand, a second after Flak looked up at him. Immediately Flak lunged for the gun too, dropping his contraption on the counter. Morgan could practically see the disaster striking as the parts came loose, liquids pooling together on the counter. And then, with the noise and force of a freight train, an explosion blew through the restaurant.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5  
Strangely, Morgan never lost consciousness. The explosion shook him, but his beaten body was so numb that it was like swimming underwater, watching the flames blow by above his head. He closed his eyes, but couldn’t move, so he just stayed still. When the dust settled, he was trapped. A wooden beam had landed on his legs, and a heavy piece of one of the tables had landed across his chest. The table actually held his limp hand over his side, a blessing in disguise.

Sunlight streamed down through holes in the ceiling, almost blinding him. As his mind processed what had happened, his ears rang with the sound of debris being moved, the screech of metal on metal, but he could detect no sign of human life. “Eli.” He whispered. “Eli?”

Hoses were turned loose on the flames by his head, and some of the dirtied water trickled down to pool by Morgan’s cheek. The small fire sputtered out before the blaze could reach him, and Morgan lifted his head but could not see the extent of the explosion. “Eli!” He tried again, mustering all his strength. His neck muscles strained as he peered through the rubble, but no response came. 

“Morgan?” Hotch’s voice punctuated his anxiety. “I’ve got him!” He yelled, crawling over the rubbish. He knelt down next to Morgan, trying to push the table off of him. 

“Leave it.” Morgan sputtered. “Stops…bleeding…” But as much as it helped, the weight was heavy on his chest, making it hard for him to breathe. 

Hotch looked him over, and swallowed thickly. The pool of blood was too large for his liking, and there were scorch marks and more drops of blood on his jeans. Morgan stirred, trying to move his foot, and Hotch stilled it with his hand. “Stay still, Morgan. We’re right here.” Hotch said, placing a hand on Morgan’s shoulder. He grabbed the beam that had fallen on Morgan’s leg and strained to lift it, but it was too awkward for one person to move alone. “I need some help over here!” Hotch yelled. JJ appeared over his shoulder, her small face pale and scared. 

“Oh God. Hotch, we need to get him out of here. He’s lost too much blood.”

A firefighter ran over and helped them shove the beam off Morgan’s legs, but he still didn’t respond; his panicked mind was consumed with his young friend. “Where’s Eli?” He demanded weakly. 

“We’re working on finding him, Morgan.” JJ comforted, running a hand over his forehead. “Just hang in there.” She looked up at Hotch. “I’ll cover the pressure. Take off the table.” Suddenly, the insistent weight was gone, replaced with JJ’s strong, soft hands covering his. “You were so great, Morgan.” She smiled down on him. “Linnea told us how good you were doing in here, talking him down and everything.”

“Was… stupid.” Morgan’s voice was barely more than a murmur, and his eyes began to flutter closed.

“Hey now.” JJ scolded, her voice verging on panic. “Look at me, Morgan, look at me. You’re going to be okay. Stay with me.” Morgan’s eyes roamed around, not able to focus on any one thing. His eyelids closed again, the adrenaline that had kept him alive slowly leaving his body as shock took over.

“Derek, the paramedic’s here. You’re going to be okay. Just hang on.” JJ sat back on her knees, letting the medic take over. She crawled to Morgan’s head, laying one hand comfortingly on his cheek as she looked down into his eyes. “Stay right here with me, Morgan.”

“I’m sorry, Eli.” He whispered. “Tell mama I didn’t mean to do it. Eli? Eli…” His eyes shut for a third time, and stayed closed, but he kept mumbling incoherently.

“He’s lost too much blood. We need to get him out of here.” The medic said, looking around frantically. “I need a backboard and C-collar!” She yelled, and her partner maneuvered them into the small space. “We need you guys to help us lift him. On three…One, two… go!” JJ and Hotch grunted as they lifted Morgan’s body, and the slippery blood pooled beneath their feet made it hard for them to keep him still. The paramedics quickly strapped Morgan into the cradle and lifted him out, JJ trailing closely in his wake. 

“What hospital?” JJ asked frantically as they slammed the back doors. 

“Georgetown U,” The medic answered. “Right downtown.” The ambulance screamed away, and as JJ watched it go, she felt someone tap her on the shoulder. She turned around to see Reid and Garcia behind her. Their faces were equally worried, even more so when they saw the blood on JJ’s hands and blouse. She quickly dried the tears that had fallen down her cheeks and sniffled. 

She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. The panic had been s all-consuming; it had occupied every corner of her mind, and now…it was gone. She walked to one of the SUVs, sitting heavily on the back bumper as she tried to regain her focus. “JJ?” Reid asked, his voice tiny. 

She looked up, fear crowding her eyes. “He’s lost a lot of blood. He…he doesn’t look so good.” She looked at the blood that coated her hands, and tried to wipe it off on her pants, but there was too much of it. “He’s been in there bleeding this whole time.” She shook the image out of her head violently, standing up. “We’ve got work to do.” She walked away from them, back towards the building, and Reid followed, leaving Garcia shell-shocked and silent by the car.

Reid jogged a few steps after JJ, catching her arm desperately. “JJ, is he going to be okay?”

“I can’t say, Reid. It doesn’t look good.” She brushed him off, walking around the perimeter. “You’re the genius. Do the math. He was in there for two and a half hours, bleeding from a gunshot wound to the torso. The bullet is still in him, so they will have to operate.” Her voice was hard; she was trying not to set herself up for disappointment, but her stoicism wasn’t helping Reid. He walked away to join Rossi and a crew on the other side of the building, and JJ watched the commotion in the rubble. Medics were carrying away another backboard, bearing the bloody body of Eli Dunn, half covered in a sheet. She watched him pass by, and recognized the young face from a picture on Morgan’s desk.  
Hotch climbed out of the still-smoking remains of the diner with the stretcher, but came and stood by JJ instead of following it to the ambulance. “How’s Morgan?” When she didn’t respond, he tried again, tilting his head in confusion. “JJ?”

“Huh?” She looked up, her eyes bright. “I’m sorry, did you say something?”

“How’s Morgan?”

“They took him to Georgetown U. No exit wound, and he lost a lot of blood. They couldn’t give me any more than that. How’s Eli?”

Hotch hesitated, and he saw the recognizance growing in her eyes. “He and Helmsley were both right next to the bomb when it went off. There was so much shrapnel in their bodies that the medics couldn’t even try to resuscitate them.”

“No sirens.” JJ realized as they pulled the second body out. The gunman was beanpole skinny, and JJ realized off-handedly that he was actually fairly short. Covered in the white sheet, he could easily have been mistaken for a fourteen year old. She turned away from Hotch, putting her hand over her mouth to stop from crying out. Emotion coursed through her thin body as an ugly thought raced through her head that left her breathless.

“JJ?” Hotch asked, putting a hand on her back. He looked over his shoulder to see the entire team watching, and led her away from the public’s prying eyes to the back of the decimated building. 

She gasped, tears leaking from her eyes. “I can’t stop thinking of Henry.” The words bubbled out in a rush in between fast, shallow breaths. Hotch could only wait for her panic to subside. “That boy…Eli. He was in the wrong place, at the wrong time, and Morgan couldn’t even protect him. What more could we have done? How am I supposed to keep Henry safe?” She leaned over, putting her hands on her knees. “Morgan grew up with Eli’s mother. Eli was someone’s son. I just…” She breathed deeply, brushing stray tears off her cheeks.

Hotch closed his eyes for a second as JJ voiced his own deepest fears. He briefly pictured Jack’s face, innocent and open. “JJ, go home, and be with Henry for a while. We’re pretty much done here, and it will be a while before we can see Morgan anyways.”

“No, no. I’m sorry. I’m fine.” She straightened up, shaking her head like the episode had passed, but Hotch could see the fear still burning in her eyes.   
“JJ, go home. Will’s probably wondering you are anyways.” They should have been off duty hours ago, and Hotch doubted that any of the team had thought to do anything else after they learned Morgan was inside.

“Where’s Jack?” JJ asked, trying to distract herself as she pulled out her cell. 

“He’s spending the extended weekend with his cousins, I was going to visit Beth in New York, but…”

JJ nodded understandingly, pausing for a moment. “I’ll see you later, then?”

“I’ll meet you at the hospital, and I’ll call you if anything happens before then.” He saw her hesitate, still lost in the tragedy of the day. Her eyes were red, and Morgan’s blood covered her hands and pants. “JJ, just go. Your job here is done. There’s nothing else we can do.”


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6  
Garcia and Alex sat nervously in the waiting room, while Hotch paced in front of them and Rossi leaned wearily against the wall. Reid had gone off to call and check on JJ; the whole team had discreetly watched her breakdown and was concerned about their normally unflappable friend. Garcia’s eyes were red, her hand intertwined with Blake’s on the arm of the chair. Alex had a pile of papers in her lap, her uncapped red pen lying on top of them, but she had given up on grading them over an hour ago. Hotch’s voice was the only one in the room, a rapid-fire conversation that the team had long since demoted to background noise. 

Rossi was the first one to see the surgeon walking towards them, and he gently laid a hand on Hotch’s shoulder. “Aaron.” He said, catching his attention. The one word was swollen with foreboding, and Hotch turned around quickly.

Upon seeing the surgeon, he muttered something into his phones and snapped it shut. “Doctor? What is Agent Morgan’s condition?” Garcia and Blake stood up and joined the tight circle, desperate for information.

“Agent Morgan came through the surgery fine, but he lost a lot of blood. The bullet chipped his seventh and eighth ribs and stopped in his liver, which sustained enough damage to be concerning, but certainly not life-threatening. We fixed the lacerations in surgery, and the liver has a marvelous way of regenerating itself.”

“So he’s okay?” Garcia clarified, her face wrinkled with worry. 

The surgeon hesitated for a second, but in that moment the team of profilers felt dread settle in their stomachs. “He’s not out of the woods yet. It was a grade III injury, so not that serious, but livers bleed more than other organs, and I’m surprised he was even conscious after the blood he lost on scene. We’re giving him periodic transfusions, but with this amount of blood loss we have to watch for signs of organ failure.” Rossi glanced down at his shoes, breathing deeply, and Garcia looked like she was about to cry again. 

Blake drew her tightly to her side and wrapped an arm around her as she asked, “What are the odds of something like that happening?”

“Low,” he responded, scratching his head. “He’s healthy, young, and fit, and those factors all work in his favor. We induced a coma for now, so we can monitor his levels and keep the pain to a minimum. He’ll probably be a bit jaundiced in the next couple of days, but that’s normal in someone with liver damage, so don’t be concerned.”

“And the other injuries he sustained?” Hotch asked.

The doctor looked down his checklist, ticking things off on his fingers as he said them. “A small head wound from the explosion, and a small fracture in his tibia from the debris. Various lacerations. But nothing too serious.”

“Can we see him?” Garcia asked, finding a tiny voice inside herself.

“Agent Morgan is up in ICU, and I recommended that there only be one or two visitors until his condition improves.”

“And when will that be?” Rossi asked.

“It’s too early to tell. We’ll reevaluate him every hour, and keep you up to date on his condition. Now, I’m sorry, but I have another surgery to prepare for.”

“Thank you, doctor.” Hotch said quickly, and the man nodded, striding away quickly. “I’ll go find Reid.” Hotch said, and he too walked away. But before he could leave the room, a middle-aged woman stopped him, her eyes wide and fearful.

“Agent Hotchner?” The woman was skinny, in an unhealthy way, like she hadn’t eaten in days. Her second-hand clothes hung off her thin frame, and her blonde hair hung limp and dull. “My name is Celia Helmsley. Did something happen to my son?” She faced the room of agents, whose expressions ranged from shock to anger at the sound of her name.  
“Please, come with me, Ms. Helmsley.” Hotch said, ushering her into a small room down the hallway. He looked over his shoulder at the group behind him, sitting back down in their chairs dejectedly. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

\- - -

Reid and Garcia stood at the doorway to Morgan’s room, silhouetted in the glaring lights of the hallway. “He looks so sad.” Garcia whispered, taking another step into the room. “Doesn’t he? Something about his face…”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Morgan this still.” Reid commented. He closed the door behind him and walked over to an easy chair in the corner of the room and sat down stiffly.

Garcia nodded in agreement. “Even when he’s asleep, he never stops twisting and turning.” She pulled another chair up next to the bed and sat down, laying her head on the sheets next to Morgan’s still arm. Cut off from the bustle of the hallway, the room was eerily silent, and neither of them could think of something to say. Garcia’s usually cheery optimism was buried beneath layers of fear that she just couldn’t shake. It was like this when any of her team members were in the hospital…which wasn’t all that rare. Her mind would race at first, desperate for information, but soon enough those feelings would ebb away, leaving a crushing fear behind as she waited for news. 

Situations like this couldn’t be fixed with her technology; her team couldn’t be healed by positivity alone. So she did the one thing that she could: wait. Waiting was her specialty in times like these; she was used to waiting alone in the office or her team to come back from the field, or waiting to hear news about someone else’s family, someone else’s friends, someone else’s social life as she explored the depths of her computers. But this situation, this was different. 

This was Morgan, her Morgan, her best friend Morgan. He had been her sun since the day they met, and she had never been able to imagine life without him. She still couldn’t. Morgan had always been invincible, her rock in whatever life through at them. And in three short hours, he had come undone.   
\- - -  
Reid was angry. He was angry at David Helmsley, who decided to settle an argument with a gun, and then to fix that mistake with a bomb. He was angry at society, for making him think that it was alright. He was angry with the police, whose reluctance to call the FBI might have gotten Morgan killed. He was angry at Hotch, for losing the upper hand and not talking Helmsley down. He was angry at the paramedics, who didn’t get to Morgan fast enough. He was angry at the doctors, who couldn’t fix Morgan despite their years of knowledge and training.

He was angry at Morgan. His best friend, his brother, and his surrogate father all in one. Morgan, who taught him how to shoot. Morgan, who introduced him to girls. Morgan, who was there for him at his lowest points. Morgan, who was unbreakable. 

Suddenly, Reid couldn’t be in the room anymore. He stood up with a force that knocked the recliner against the wall, and strode out of the room before Garcia could see the tears falling fast and furious down his pale cheeks. “Reid?” She asked, her voice puzzled. He was gone before it registered.

He walked the hallways of the hospital, from oncology to maternity to orthopedics, until finally he ended up in the waiting room of the ER, reading magazine after magazine while sitting next to an ever-changing group of wounded, hurting people just like him. Every couple of minutes, he felt his cell phone buzz insistently in his pocket, but ignored it. It vibrated again, and Reid took it out to see nine missed calls from JJ and Hotch. He shut it down, the finality of his actions reassuring. 

“Excuse me?” Reid looked up to see a nurse standing front of him, a middle-aged woman wearing scrubs patterned in giraffes and hippos. “Are you waiting to see someone?”

“No.” Reid said, looking back down at the magazine in front of him. Belatedly, he realized it was a women’s magazine, opened to a spread about decorations and flower arrangements. He discarded it, folding his hands over his chest. “I’m fine.”

“Are you waiting for someone?” She asked, trying to reason through the situation in her mind.

“In a way.” Reid answered, examining her anxious face. “You could say that.”


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7  
“There you are!” The sound of Blake’s loud, relieved voice knocked Reid out of his reverie and drew the stares of some of the others in the waiting room. She strode over to him, making note of the magazines piled around him. “Reid, I’ve been looking for you everywhere. Your phone must’ve died.”

“I turned if off.” He said shortly, standing up. “What do you need?”

Blake took a step back, taking in his surly attitude. “JJ’s here.” She said quietly. “She wanted to see you. She feels bad about…earlier. At the scene.”

“Tell her that she doesn’t need to apologize, I understand.” He sat back down, glancing at his watch. “How’s Morgan?”

“The same. And you’re going to tell her, not me.” Her voice was firm, and she gently grabbed his arm to pull him to his feet.

“Stop it!” Reid said angrily, jerking away from her comforting grip. “Just…just…leave me alone!” The tears started falling again, and Blake cleared off the chair next to him, sitting down and taking his hands.

“Reid, talk to me.” Her earnest brown eyes bored into his, and he hiccupped. He took a deep breath, wiping his eyes on the sleeve of his button down shirt.

“It’s Morgan. There’s never been a moment when he’s not...there. After Hankel, when we thought Emily was dead, after Maeve…He’s always texting me, or stopping by my place. We’ve known each other for twelve years.” Blake listened quietly, letting him go on. “And now this. I’m… stuck between grief, and fear…and he’s the only one I want to talk to.”

“The only one?” Blake asked probingly. “Not JJ, not Hotch?”

“I said want, not can.” Surliness crept back into his tone, and Blake shut her mouth. “I just want to be alone right now.”

“How about being alone…with us?” Reid was taken aback by the paradoxical suggestion, but didn’t respond. “Hear me out,” Alex continued. “We’re worried about you. We’re worried about Morgan, about JJ, about Garcia… Just come sit with the team, be with us. We’ll leave you alone.” He sat resiliently mute, and Alex pressed on. “Morgan deserves to have his friends by his side.” She knew it was a low blow, and he did too, but it worked.

“I just…I can’t.” Reid stuttered flatly. He stared over Blake’s shoulder, focusing on the blank wall behind her. “I can’t stay in that room. It’s not Morgan. I just…I…I’m scared.” He looked to her for understanding, and she nodded once. “I can’t face it. It’s not Morgan.”

She gently snaked her arm over his shoulder, much like a new couple in a movie theatre. He accepted it, even leaning into her slightly. His shoulders curved into the bow of her arm, and his back hunched, like he was falling in on himself. They sat like that for a few minutes, but were interrupted by Blake’s ringing cell phone. She pulled away, standing up and walking a few steps away until she answered. “Yeah, I found him.” She said quietly. “We’re okay. Just give us a few minutes, and we’ll join you.” She turned away so Reid couldn’t hear her. “He just wants to talk to someone, but that someone happens to be Morgan. Yes, I’ll get him upstairs. See you soon.” She walked back to Reid, who despite her best efforts had heard the whole conversation. 

“It’s time to go.” He said to himself, looking up. “Yeah. We should go.” He looked at the magazines scattered around him and stacked them into an impeccably neat pile before grabbing his bag and fiddling with the strap.

“Reid…” Blake chided gently. 

“Sorry.” He said, shaking his head. “Let’s go.” They walked through a maze of hallways until they got to the elevator bank, and Reid fidgeted nervously as they waited for the doors to open. They waited in silence, and they were the only ones in the carriage as it ascended the floors. The silence was oddly comforting to Reid; it was what he had been craving for the past couple of hours. Silence, but also…companionship. 

JJ was waiting as they stepped off the elevator, and immediately she embraced Reid tightly. Reid didn’t relax into the hug, but looked expressionlessly over her shoulder at the rest of the team. JJ let go, and stepped back, getting a good look at him. He didn’t look too bad, at least not any worse than she herself did, she reasoned. “You okay?” She asked in a whisper.

“Yeah. I’m good.” He breathed back, walking past her towards the rest of the group. “Any change?”

“No news yet.” Hotch responded, deciding to discuss Reid’s disappearance at a later time. “Rossi, were you able to get a hold of Eli’s mother?”

“She’s on her way down from Chicago, with Morgan’s mom and his sister Desiree.” He said grimly. “That should be a fun car ride.” He didn’t smile, and no one else did either. “They’re arriving later this evening.”

“Has anyone called Emily?” Reid asked out of the blue. “She and Morgan text each other almost every day.” They looked around guiltily, no one had even thought of contacting her. Reid sighed, turning away from the team again. “I’ll call her, then.”

“Reid, I got it.” Hotch said quickly. “Just stay here.” He laid a hand on Reid’s shoulder, feeling the tense, stringy muscle beneath it, and the slight reflexive twitch when his hand made contact. “I’ll call her. What time is it in London right now?”

“Almost four am.” Reid responded automatically. “Call her. She’ll want to know.”

“I’m going to, Reid.” The edge of annoyance in Hotch’s voice was the only indicator of the toll this was taking on him; he had stayed stoic and strong through the entire ordeal. His bloodstained and dirty shirt from the scene had been discarded; Hotch had re-knotted his tie at the throat of a clean shirt and reassumed his authority. As he walked away from the team into an empty hallway, he released a large breath. Leaning heavily against the wall, he pulled out his cell phone. He still hadn’t taken her bureau phone off his speed dial, and he remembered a second too late that she had gotten a new number. Scrolling through his contacts, he finally found her name. 

It rang twice before she answered. Her voice was foggy with confusion, but also laced with apprehension. “Hotch? What’s going on?”

He took a deep breath. “Sorry to wake you, Emily, but we thought you ought to know. Morgan was in an explosion this morning. He’s in the hospital right now, stable but comatose.”

“What?” Hotch could picture her panic-stricken face as the news broke her sleepy stupor. “I mean, what happened?”

He groaned tiredly. “Morgan was eating lunch with his friend’s son, who was down from Chicago, and another boy came in and started shooting. We think Morgan got hit by a ricochet.”

“Wait, he was shot too?” Emily asked.

“Yes, that’s what set the unsub off. We think he was panicking because of Morgan. We don’t know why the kid was building a bomb, but bomb squad thinks it was accidental. Morgan was trapped in the explosion, and it took a while to get him out.”

“And the unsub?” She asked quietly.

“DOA.” Hotch said heavily. “And the boy that Morgan was eating with, Eli Dunn.”

“Why did he even start shooting?” She asked. Hotch heard muted beeping from her end, and she groaned. “And there’s my alarm.”

“As far as we can tell, one of the cashiers had dumped him, and from the witness accounts, he was on some sort of drugs. Probably cocaine. He reacted violently when she tried to reason with him.”

There was silence as she processed it, but Hotch could feel her presence on the other end of the line. “What’s going on with Morgan?” She finally asked. “You said he’s in a coma?”

“Medically induced.” Hotch corrected. “He lost a lot of blood, and they want to keep him stable until they know for sure that there’s no organ damage. The doctors are cautiously optimistic, but they won’t give us a sure answer.”

“Covering their asses.” She remarked disdainfully. But Hotch could feel her masking the worry; he could hear her consciously evening her breath on the other side of the line. “But it’s possible? That he could have organ damage?”

“It’s possible.” He admitted. “The bullet was buried in his liver, which caused even more bleeding. All we can do is wait until his blood levels are back to normal.” He stared at the wall in front of him, counting the scuffs at hip level, where gurneys had careened down the corridor. It was empty now, but it still seemed to hold the weight of the past traffic. He rubbed his forehead, exhaling deeply.

“I can fly in later today, Hotch. I just need to turn my cases over and make sure some meetings are covered.” She sounded preoccupied, and despite the circumstances, Hotch grinned. 

“You’re turning into quite the bureaucrat.” He commented. “You know, Emily, you don’t need to drop everything to come here. We’re all here for him.”

“He’d do the same for me.” Emily said, still distracted by the hassles on her side of the ocean. “I’ll see you in….about ten hours. Let me know if anything changes.”

“Will do. I’ll see you soon.” He flipped his phone shut, and tilted his head back against the cool tile wall. He could feel his eyes closing, the emotional and physical toll of the day finally catching up with him.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8  
As the next morning dawned, most of the team hadn’t moved from their spots the night before. Garcia was still in Morgan’s room, snoring gently in the recliner. Rossi and Hotch had gone to a nearby hotel, but neither one of them had ended up sleeping much. Blake and Reid were in the waiting room of the hospital, snoozing peacefully despite the chatter and rush of the early morning staff. JJ was the only one awake, as she had given up on sleep hours ago. Her eyes roamed restlessly, not really seeing, as she was consumed in her thoughts. She stared at Reid, who had nodded off against Blake’s shoulder. Alex’s hand still marked her page in the book on her lap, but she had fallen asleep too, her head drooping against the wall behind her.'

JJ stood up and began to pace around the cramped room, cracking her back as she did so. The devastation of the afternoon had put her optimism on hold; she was waiting for at least a bit good news before allowing her hope came out in full force. After a few rounds, she sat back down, putting her head in her hands. As she massaged her temples, she heard footsteps behind her, and a familiar voice made her look up. “Need some coffee?”

Immediately, her heart lightened. “Emily,” she exhaled, flying into her friend’s waiting arms. The two women held each other closely, each taking on the other’s doubts and fears. Emily could feel JJ relax in her arms, tension draining from her shoulders, and felt JJ’s head drop onto her shoulder.

“How’s he doing?” Emily asked quickly, handing JJ a tall, steaming latte as she took in her friend’s bedraggled appearance and the sleeping agents before her. “Did you stay here all night?”

“Yeah, we did. There’s no change, they’re going to reevaluate him in a couple of hours when his doctor returns.” She yawned, sitting down and patting the seat next to her for Emily. “All we can do is wait for him to wake up.”

“JJ, when was the last time you slept?”

“I couldn’t. I was just too worried about him.” She took a sip and grimaced at the scalding hot liquid. Motioning to Reid across from her, she added in a low voice, “He’s not taking this well either.” 

“What do you mean?” Emily said in a low voice, scrutinizing Reid’s slumped body even closer. She couldn’t see anything especially different about him, but then again, Reid had always had a talent for hiding his inner self from the rest of the team.

“He’s angry.” JJ stated simply. “He told Blake that the only person he wanted to talk to was Morgan.” Her voice was sad, and Emily saw her shoot a tender, motherly glance towards his still form. 

“Well, maybe he’ll talk to me.” She said, standing up and walking over to him. Shrugging her shoulders, she laid a hand on his upper arm. As soon as she touched the soft cotton of his shirt, he woke up, looking around wildly. “Hey…Hey Reid, it’s me.” His brown eyes opened wider, as though he couldn’t believe what was actually before his tired eyes.

“Emily!” He exclaimed, springing up and wrapping his thin arms around her. They were both grinning widely, but JJ thought she could see a tear dripping down Emily’s cheeks. She was like a breath of fresh air for the team, a reminder of times past, but JJ knew her better. It had to be hard for her to come back, especially in this situation. The team had gone on to live their lives without her, and Emily knew that things had changed.

“Hey, take it easy. I’m sure that I’ll be here for a while.” She laughed, letting him go.

“Hopefully Morgan will wake up soon and you won’t have to be here for too long.” Alex chimed in, standing up and stretching. “You must be Agent Prentiss.” The two women appraised each other for a moment before sharing an unsure smile.

“Please, call me Emily.” she replied, holding out her hand. “And you must be Dr. Blake.”

“Alex,” she replied diplomatically. “It’s good to meet you, but I wish it was under different circumstances. Morgan will be glad you’re here.” It was odd for both women to be so closely linked, but at the same time, to be such strangers. Blake had replaced Emily, falling into all of her old routines and relationships. She sat on the empty spot on the jet, occupied the empty desk, took the empty seat at the roundtable.

The group shared an awkward moment before Reid stood and stretched. “What time is it?”

“Six am. For the second time today.” Emily said drily. She seemed to remember why she had crossed seven time zones, and she hesitated. “Can I…see him?”

“Garcia’s in there now.” JJ replied, sitting back down. “She hasn’t left his side. But I’m sure she would love to see you.” She walked Emily down the hallway to the doorway, squeezing her hand reassuringly as they arrived. “I’m so glad you came.” JJ admitted softly. “It’s been so long since we saw you last.”

“You guys are still my second family.” Emily replied softly. “You would do this for me in a heartbeat.” She took a deep breath as JJ walked away, and gently turned the doorknob. For a moment, she ignored the still form covered in sheets and her eyes found Garcia, sleeping in the recliner. The tech was wearing her typical bright colors, but the clothing was rumpled and she had removed her earrings, leaving the sparkling chandeliers on the bedside table next to her cat-eye glasses. “Garcia.” Emily whispered, gently shaking her shoulders. “Penelope! Wake up!” 

Slowly, her eyes opened, confused at the blurry shapes in front of her. She put on the glasses that Emily handed her, and immediately a smile split across her face. “Em!” She stood up and enveloped Emily in her ample arms, in the type of bear hug that only Garcia could give. Emily allowed herself to break down for a minute, to experience the emotion that was welling up inside of her. She wiped away a singular tear that had found its way down her cheek.

“Garcia, can I have some time with him?” Emily walked over to the side of the bed, touching his hand gently. Her eyes were drawn to his massive frame, which seemed to take up the entire bed, enveloped in a perfectly still sheet.

“Oh, honey, of course. I’ll be outside with the team.” Emily heard Garcia pull the door shut behind her with a thud, and the room fell into a dusty darkness. Garishly bright screens tracked every aspect of the thread of life that he clung to, and Emily felt a profound sadness. She had been where he was now, not dying, but not living either. She slid her small hand into Morgan’s and was surprised at how warm it was. Not that she was expecting it to be cold…but in the deepest recesses of her mind, it was almost like he was…even when asleep, he had never been this still. 

An undercurrent of electric buzz was the only noise in the room, and Emily felt like tiptoeing as she walked further in. The silence was unnatural, and its oppressing nothingness engulfed her as she sat down. Every twitch, every breath was amplified, and Emily could practically feel the world freezing around her, as if someone had pressed pause on her life, but allowed her to keep moving.

“Hey, Derek.” His name sounded odd on her lips. “So, I heard you got shot…and then blown up?” Teasing laughter found its way into her voice. “One or the other wasn’t good enough for you, huh? Had to go and do it all.” She finally looked at his face, peppered with small cuts and bruises. His lips were paler than normal, and he looked gaunt…or maybe that had happened in the time since he and Garcia had visited her in England. She stroked his arm delicately, feeling the seemingly impenetrable muscle beneath it. Her voice no more than a whisper, she spoke into the empty space. “Why? Why do you think he did it?” Leaning back into the chair, she took in the entirety of his powerful body. “And why you?”

She sat with him for nearly half an hour, watching the controlled movement of his chest as he inhaled and exhaled. The sun began to rise in the window behind her, washing the room in dim light as it peeked out from behind the dark horizon. “I miss you guys every day, you know.” Her voice was lost in the empty room, lost in the whispering of the many machines with glowing screes and gauges. “I think about every one of you, every day. Work is just work there, and it’s true what they say…it’s lonely at the top. My coworkers are my subordinates, not my friends.”

She leaned back in her chair, closing her eyes. “Not that I don’t have friends in London. I have friends.” She said matter-of-factly. “I have long hours. You know how it is.” She sighed, standing and looking out the window at the city sprawled beneath her. “No one is a Vonnegut fan like you, though.” She smiled to herself for a moment, then frowned again. “Come on, Morgan.” She leaned forward to lay her hand on his arm again, and the leaned on the edge of the bed. “I came all this way, just to see you…and I have to say, you’re disappointing me.” Another tear slipped out of her eye, and she quickly brushed it away. “Wake up for me, Morgan. Just for a minute, to tell me you’ll be okay.” She closed her eyes, focusing all her energy on Morgan’s broken body, and her pleading was barely more than a whisper. “Please.”


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9  
Ten minutes later, a soft knock on the door forced Emily to her feet. Rossi poked his head through the crack in the door, smiling as he saw Emily. Emily smiled too, but it didn’t quite eliminate the sadness in her eyes. Rossi beckoned for her to come outside, and embraced her as soon as she joined the door closed behind her. “Good to see you again, Emily.”

“You too, Dave.” She said, seeing Hotch out of the corner of her eye. “Hey Hotch.” She hugged him quickly too, but let go as a doctor approached the team. The entire team seemed to stop breathing as the man approached, and his stern, middle-aged face didn’t give away any information.

“Doctor Scott,” Hotch said formally. “How is he?”

“About as well as what can be expected.” The man responded, checking through a stack of papers on his clipboard. He pushed his glasses onto the bridge of his nose as he scanned through the information. “I had told you that we had to keep an eye out for organ failure…his spleen shows signs of blood deprivation, which obviously isn’t good. Normally, the spleen holds a blood reserve, but that was exhausted when he was brought in. Our main concern right now is rehabilitating that supply, and making sure his iron and antibody levels are normal.” 

“What does that mean for him?” Blake asked tentatively. “When is he going to wake up?”

“Again, we want to keep him as still as possible until his internal injuries heal. His liver is also not healing at the rate we would expect, but that is less serious than it sounds. For now, maybe a couple of hours until we can retest.”

“And the bullet’s entrance wound?” Hotch asked. He had dropped the ball when he lost control of the negotiation, but he wouldn’t gamble with Morgan’s well–being again. A flashback of the blast blazed in front of his eyes, the explosion ripping through his mind as powerfully as it had in reality. He was snapped out of his reverie by the doctor’s words.

“Healing quite well, actually.” The doctor responded. “I didn’t see any signs of infection, and the stiches are holding nicely. His ribs are doing well too. Those will take a while, he’s injured them before, but they are in a good spot to heal correctly. We’ll keep an eye out for splintering, but by keeping him comatose…well, he’s not moving around much.”

“Thank you doctor.” Hotch finished, dismissing him. “You said a few hours?”

“I’ll be back to check on him at noon. We’ll see what happens then.” With a firm nod, he turned smartly on his heel and began to walk away. The team looked at each other, not sure how to respond, until Emily stepped in front of the group.

“So what happened?” She asked directly, her dark eyes sad. “The whole story. I mean….how?”

JJ sat down heavily in one of the chairs and started speaking. “He had gone to meet with Eli, who was going to sign with U Maryland. As far as we know, Helmsley walked in, shot one of the waitresses, and then took everyone hostage. They panicked, he fired, and Morgan got hit, along with one other woman, who was probably dead moments later.” She yawned widely, and Rossi took over the story.

“Local police called us an hour later when they identified his badge number through the window. Morgan had already lost a lot of blood; he was almost unconscious. Hotch tried negotiating, but Helmsley figured that he could distract us with a bomb and get out of the restaurant.”

“But he ended up killing himself instead.” Emily said, anger hardening her voice. “Four people dead. And Morgan…”

“Morgan is going to be okay.” Blake interjected. “We can’t give up on him.”

“No one’s giving up on him.” Emily responded icily. “I was just saying that Helmsley’s actions had consequences.”

“I was not disagreeing with you.” Blake responded evenly. They stared at each other warily across the small circle, and everyone else watched them uneasily. Emotions in the room fluxed with every breath as the worry that they all felt was countered by their exhaustion. JJ looked up, catching Emily’s eye and cocking her head to draw her over. Emily sat down next to her and JJ patted her leg comfortingly.

Hotch looked at his watch regretfully. “I need to get back to Quantico to update Cruz and figure out the paperwork for all of this.” Rossi picked up his discarded coat as if to follow him, but Hotch waved him down. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours. Stay here for him; if I need one of you I’ll call. I’ll try to make sure we don’t pick up any new cases, but I can’t guarantee anything.” He looked like he wanted to say more, but he shrugged and walked out.

“Some things never change.” Emily said, breaking the ice in the room. She looked around at the faces of her old team, which she had only scene across video screens for the past couple of months.

“Some things do.” Rossi responded, a cheeky smile on his face. “I heard you’re becoming quite the bureaucrat. Taking Interpol by storm.”

“Hotch said the same thing.” She laughed. “It’s not that bad. Definitely different, but not bad.”

“Aw, guys, she actually misses us.” JJ jested, gently leaning into Emily’s shoulder. Emily wrapped an arm around her, squeezing her close. It had been awhile since she had gotten hugged, and she didn’t usually realize how much she had missed it. She did not typically search out hugs, but the comfort that a friendly embrace can bring is much-needed every once in a while. 

“I miss you guys so much. The people I work with…well, understand this: I’m not English so my social credibility is null. They respect my profiling skills, but the atmosphere there…It’s not the BAU.” She smiled as she said it, but the stress was evident on her face. She tucked a dark strand of hair behind her ear, leaning back in the chair.

“Well, no matter the circumstances, we’re glad you’re here Em.” Rossi said. 

“Yeah…the circumstances.” She repeated ruefully. “I wish I could have visited before…before all of this happened.”

“It’s not like you dropped off the face of the earth.” Rossi said, sitting down on Emily’s other side. He patted her leg comfortingly. “You guys talk almost every day.”

“I’ve just… The office had been busy lately. I was going to come back for Christmas, but my mom was in London…we just stayed there.” She babbled defensively, throwing out excuses like shields. “And then I had this big case in February, and then…then this.”

“Emily, you don’t need excuses.” JJ said, rubbing her back. “We know. Morgan knows.” Emily leaned back in the chair, rubbing the tension out of her neck. 

“Yeah.” She agreed slowly. “Yeah, I know. I’m just…”

“Tired?” Reid suggested.

“Stressed?” Rossi said at the same time.

Emily sighed thoughtfully, thinking for a minute. She stared into the distance, her eyes glued to the opposite wall. “Lonely.” she decided. “I’m surrounded by people every day, and that’s all I can think of. Just…lonely. I miss you guys, but I miss the city too. Just the feel of Quantico, and DC…I’m not the one with the odd accent here.” She chuckled bitterly. “But that’s the price you pay for power.” Her cynicism was not lost on the others, who exchanged worried glances.

“I thought you said the Interpol job was going well?” Reid said, slowly measuring her tone.

“Oh, the job’s fantastic.” Emily affirmed again. “But it takes me out of the country too much. I can’t form meaningful relationships with anyone other than the barista that gets me coffee every morning at 4 am.”

“Well, it’s a start.” Rossi said jovially, but his words fell on practically deaf ears. Somewhat dejected, he picked up a magazine he had found. “I’m going to sit with Morgan. When you guys are a bit more optimistic, you can join us.” He walked out of the room, leaving his downcast friends behind. They were starting to get to him.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

A couple of hours later, the Morgan caravan arrived. “Agent Hotchner.” Fran Morgan’s voice was both authoritative and scared, and the team stood immediately, lost for words. Morgan’s sister and Sarah Dunn trailed behind her, both looking a bit shell shocked. Sarah’s face was devoid of emotion as Desiree slid an arm around her shoulders, supporting her.

“Mrs. Morgan. Please, sit down.” Hotch gestured to a chair, but the older woman stayed standing, her spine straight and tight.

“I’d like to see my son, please,” She responded quickly. Although was trying to keep her voice flat, it wobbled a bit at the end of the sentence. Mrs. Morgan was a strong woman, but one who had always depended on her son. She hugged her purse to tightly her chest like it was her lifeline as JJ stepped forward and hugged her, and quickly stepped back when she let go. “Where is he?”

“I’ll take you to him.” Rossi said quietly, waving down the hallway. “Garcia’s with him right now. She’s barely left his side.” Fran and Desiree followed him down the hallway, but Sarah Dunn stayed by the team. Her jacket and clothes were classy, but the edges were frayed with frequent wear and her leather boots were salt-stained from the mucky Chicago streets. Her young face seemed to sag with exhaustion that went beyond a simple lack of sleep, and her mascara had been cried off a long time ago, judging by the redness of her eyes. Even though none of the agents knew her personally, her connection to their colleague and friend seemed to magnify her grief.

“Ms. Dunn? I’m so sorry about your son. He was a wonderful young man.” Blake paused for a moment, but Sarah didn’t show any signs that she had heard. Nothing seemed right to express the sorrow they all felt, nothing they could say would fill the gaping hole. For a rare moment, the linguist was at a loss for words. The rest of the team could not find anything to say either, even the usually composed Hotch was silent. Slowly, Sarah found the composure she had left and looked up at the strangers in front of her. 

“Could you…Could I see…Eli?” Her voice was low and still choked with unshed tears, but she was regaining the characteristic strength that comes from growing up in the slums of Chicago. She stood up and played with a stray thread on her jacket, not meeting anyone’s eyes. 

“Of course.” Hotch answered gently, shrugging into his spotlessly black suit jacket. “It’s just this way.” They walked in silence down the semi-deserted corridor as she sniffled, wiping her eyes again on her coat sleeve. They arrived at a nondescript door, marked only by a small plaque reading “Morgue”. They both reached for the handle and paused awkwardly, neither of them wanting to actually open the door. Hotch grabbed it and pushed it open for her, following her into the small hallway. It was brightly lit and smelled faintly of a tropically breezy air-freshener that failed at distracting them from the death surrounding them from all sides.

Blake had called ahead for them, so the coroner was waiting with Eli’s sheet-covered body when they arrived, his middle-aged face arranged into a grimly distant expression. The white sheet was draped over Eli’s tall frame, peaking over his head and feet. Sarah inhaled deeply, briefly closing her eyes. “Do it.” She whispered, and Hotch nodded to the coroner, who delicately pulled the sheet from Eli’s head. For the first time, Hotch saw first-hand the damage that Helmsley’s bomb had done. A long abrasion stretched across Eli’s closely-shaved head, spanning the length of his cheek as well. His face was swollen and marked with scratches and scrapes from shrapnel, but it was peaceful in the stillness of death. There were blisters and discolorations where the flames had exploded directly next to him, leaving his upper torso disfigured.

Sarah gently reached out and stroked Eli’s undamaged cheek, and floated her fingertips over his eyes. Death had created a distance between them, never again would she be able to hug her son, or talk to him. The sorrowful intimacy made Hotch take a step back into the shadows, allowing the woman a moment with her dead son. The emotion was palpable, and Hotch swallowed back his own sorrow as he flashed back to his wife’s death, to an image of her body lying lifelessly as he stood by. He could remember the smoothness of her dead hand, not cold yet but not warm by any means. He pulled himself together and watched Sarah Dunn curiously. She had begun crying, but they were silent tears; her wailing had been quieted in the hours prior.

The minutes dragged on, but Hotch could not interrupt her silent reverie, nor could she pull herself away from her son. They stood waiting, until the coroner gently touched the sheet at Eli’s chest, waiting for silent permission to cover him up again. Sarah nodded, the tears falling faster as she touched her son’s hand for the last time. The coroner stepped back to the cupboards and grabbed a small paper bag, handing it to her. “His personal effects, ma’am.” The man murmured, a sympathetic look in his eyes. She cradled the bag in her arms, a poor substitute for what she was missing. She turned to Hotch and he led her out the door, pausing as she turned around to say one last goodbye. As they walked away, she dried her tears on the back of her hand.

“Are you alright?” Hotch asked, authentic concern evident in his voice. He led her to a small reception area and sat her down, away from the hubbub of the rest of the hospital. 

Her voice shook as she answered. “He was so young.” She closed her eyes and seemed to deflate, dry sobs seizing her body. “He was going…to college…wanted to be…a teacher.” She leaned heavily into Hotch’s side, and he wrapped an arm around the woman, swallowing images of his own son, who earlier that same week had told Hotch that he wanted to be a teacher. Jack seemed to be growing up before his eyes, and Hotch closed his eyes quickly, consciously struggling to keep his son’s face off of Eli’s still body in his thoughts.

\- - -

Rossi let the women into Morgan’s room, and as Garcia excused herself, she and Rossi could see the tears begin to fall down Mrs. Morgan’s cheeks. Rossi shut the door gently behind them, and turned back down the hall to rejoin Blake, Emily, JJ, and Reid. Garcia was finished crying, but she had not yet regained the strength to give off her normally radiant smile. Rossi stopped her clacking steps with a gentle hand on her wrist, and looked into her eyes. “He’s going to be alright, you know,” he said reassuringly. 

“He’s the strongest man I know,” Garcia replied openly. She took a deep breath and exhaled heavily, allowing the air to flow through her lungs as thoughts tumbled through her head. “What Reid was saying earlier? It makes so much sense. The one person I want to talk to about this more than anyone in the world is lying in the hospital bed in there.”

“But unlike Reid, you can talk to just about anyone.” Rossi’s comment pulled a small smile to her lips, and he guided her in the other direction down the hallway. “You heard what the doctor said. Morgan’s chances are good. And he’s a fighter.”

“With everything he’s been through…” Garcia trailed off, thinking. “And he’s so optimistic, all the time. Whatever’s wrong, it’s like…he walks in and it’s fixed. He’s a rock.”

“He’s had a lot to overcome.” Rossi agreed. He stopped walking and, facing Garcia, took her shoulders in his weathered hands. “But he isn’t lost. That’s what you have to remember. Morgan’s not going to be the same when he comes out of this, but he’ll still be Morgan.” She exhaled shakily, closing her eyes as a solitary tear dripped down her cheek. Rossi pulled her into a comforting hug, like a father would a daughter. “We just need to trust that everything will be alright. Time heals all wounds.”

“You’re not Chaucer.” Garcia said semi-jokingly. She pulled away, drying the lone tear with her shirt sleeve. 

“But I have his wisdom.” Rossi explained, turning her around and striding back down the corridor. “And I have more than enough experience.”


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Hours later, the only ones left in the hospital were Reid, Emily, JJ, and the Morgans. Hotch and Blake had returned to their families in DC, and Rossi and Garcia had taken Sarah Dunn and gone to the hotel to sleep for the first time in almost 48 hours. Reid and Emily were deep in conversation about some of her cases at Interpol, as JJ listened idly and stared at the clock across the room, begging the seconds to speed up. It was around seven pm; she had been sitting there since the phone call with Will a couple of hours earlier. The doctor had retested Morgan at noon and then again at four, and although he seemed optimistic, Morgan remained comatose. Desiree and Fran had not left Morgan’s side since they arrived the whole time.

She resurfaced at the sound of insistent rumbling coming from Reid’s stomach. He blushed. “Sorry.”

Emily and JJ chuckled, and then Emily’s growled too. “Dinner time?” Emily asked the group. Reid nodded eagerly, but JJ shook her head.

“I picked up a snack earlier, I’m fine.” They grabbed their things and began to leave before Reid turned around. “We should ask Fran and Desiree. They probably haven’t eaten since they got here.”

They walked towards the room and came out a couple of minutes later with a tired-looking yet stoic Desiree and Fran. “JJ?” Fran’s voice was hoarse, whether from tears or something else JJ did not know. “Will you stay with him? I just...I don’t want him to be alone.”

“Of course!” She readily agreed. If it were her son lying in the bed, she would’ve had a hard time pulling herself away even to eat. “Take all the time you need, you have my word that I won’t leave him.” She stood up and stretched, laying a soft hand on Fran’s broad shoulders. “I’ll head in there now.”

“Thanks JJ.” Desiree murmured, accepting a hug as JJ passed by. 

“You guys go out for a bite to eat. We’ll both be here when you get back.” With that, she walked down the hallway, mentally preparing herself to open the door. Although she had glanced in on him when she first got to the hospital, ever since then she had been in a constant state of harried activity, whether it be comforting one of her team members, running to get coffee, or pursuing various nurses for reports. It was not that she was avoiding him, per say, it was more that there were things to do that nobody else was up to doing. 

As she reached the door, she drew in a long breath. She cracked it open, watching the small beam of light break its way through the soft, warm glow from a solitary lamp at Morgan’s bedside. The only noise other than her quiet footsteps was the sound of mechanized breathing, a steady pattern of the small tubes in his nose pumping in oxygen and his perfectly regulated exhalations. She could see the sunset out the partially open curtains, and wondered wistfully how long it had been since she had been outside. Two days? Three? She had brought her laptop with so she could work, and she called home every couple of hours to check in on Henry and update Will.

Leaning back in the well-worn easy chair next to the hospital bed, she allowed herself to breathe. She swiveled the chair around so she could watch the sunset and keep an eye on Morgan, then settled back and let her thoughts fade away. The vivid hues stretched limitlessly out the corners of the window, and JJ spent her time trying to find every single color hidden in the broad stripes. The brilliance permeated her body, bringing her a sort of peace that she hadn’t felt in days. She closed her eyes, the ghost of a smile on her face.

About an hour later, something interrupted JJ’s reverie. Her eyes opened gently to see that the sun had set, but that was not it…there was a change, somehow. She swiveled back around to face Morgan, but he was still. She listened carefully, and finally found what she was looking for. His breathing was a hitch faster, barely noticeable if you had not been listening to it for the past hour. “Derek?” She whispered. “Can you hear me?” She was examining every inch of him, and she grabbed his hand, holding it tightly. Slowly, her expectant excitement transformed into disappointment, and she settled back into her chair. “You’re imagining things, Jennifer.” She muttered to herself, massaging her temples with her hands. 

Suddenly, she heard it again. A change in his breathing--small, but noticeable. Her own heart began to beat faster, and she sank down to her knees next to the bed, laying a hand on Derek’s shoulder. “Morgan? It’s JJ. I’m right here.” She said firmly. “Derek, can you hear me?” She froze for a minute, desperate for a sign of change, and she finally got it. His hand tightened infinitesimally around hers, and she squeezed back for dear life. “Good, Derek. Good. I’m right here.” His eyes opened next, opening like a hairline crack in his still face. JJ broke into a wide smile, and saw that the corners of his mouth turned up a bit as well. 

“Jayje.” He said, the single syllable coming out slurred through his dry lips. 

“Yeah, Morgan, it’s me. You’re alright.” Relieved tears rolled down her cheeks, and she brushed them away. “It’s good to see you.” 

“Stop crying.” His voice was slowly regaining its customary authority as his face broke into a small grin. “Where is everyone else?” He let go of JJ’s hand and rubbed his eyes, noting the pulse oximeter clipped to his finger. He lifted his other arm, rolling his eyes at the IV. 

“Slow down there, Morgan. I should get the doctors.” She stood up, cracking her back. “Hotch and Blake went back to Quantico, Rossi took Garcia to the hotel, and Reid and Emily took your mom and sister out to get some food.”

“My mom? Emily? Why is Emily here?” His dark eyes roved over his body as he took stock of his body, wincing as he felt some of his injuries. “God. What happened to me?”

“I’m going to go get the doctor.” JJ said, dodging his question. “Just rest; I’ll be right back.” AS she walked away, her thoughts whirled. She was not the one that was supposed to be there when he woke up, that was for his family, or for Garcia or Emily. And how on earth was she going to explain to him what happened, when she could barely bring herself to think about it. She arrived at the nurses’ station and hurriedly explained that Morgan was awake. As they leaped into action, JJ borrowed the landline and quickly called Hotch. “Hey, it’s me.” She sputtered, trying to keep an eye on Morgan’s room. “He’s up. Can you call everyone else? Reid and Em are out with the Morgans, try to get to them first.”

“You got it. Stay with him.” The line cut off with a sharp click, and JJ jogged back at Morgan’s room, a little out of breath. He had lost his smile as a new doctor prodded at his side, and she grimaced sympathetically as she rejoined him.

“How are you doing?” She asked. There was a nurse examining the readouts on the machines, and she added a dose of something to the IV.

“Fine.” He answered, but he winced again as the doctor touched his stomach. “I think she just added some morphine anyways.”

The doctor walked around to join them and smiled. “Everything looks good, Agent. You just need to stay as still as possible for the time being. We’re not going to sedate you again for the time being, but if you feel tired at all you should try to go back to sleep. I’ll let you guys talk for a while before I fully examine you.” He walked out of the room, the nurse following at his heels.

“JJ.” Morgan started immediately. “I remember getting shot, and you guys showing up. Beyond that…” He shrugged his shoulders, but hissed in pain. “Right. Not moving, I got it.” Already, he was the typical Morgan that she knew and loved; his eyes were bright and attentive and his hands fluttered on top of the sheet, not used to being still for so long.

JJ bit her lip, not sure how to proceed. “We got the hostages out, but Helmsley—the shooter—barricaded himself inside and set off a bomb, we think accidentally. He was killed in the explosion.” She was walking on thin ice, and didn’t know how far to take it, but Morgan didn’t catch her nervousness.

“So everyone got out safe? Well, except me.” As soon as he said it, he saw the answer in JJ’s face. “Oh God…” He breathed. He closed his eyes tight. “Just tell me.” She reached for his hand, but he moved it away, staring right into her eyes. “Jayje.”

“Derek…it was Eli. Helmsley kept him in the restaurant. He…he got caught in the blast. There was nothing anyone could do.” She could almost see the information going through his mind, from the first stages of shock to understanding, to a wordless, tearless sorrow that seemed to cleave him in two. He sank into the pillow even further, his face blank for a second before it contorted into complete and total anguish. JJ rubbed his arm in soft soothing circles as the tears worked their way out of Morgan’s heavily shut eyes. He tried to be strong, but lost it. He curled into a ball on his uninjured side, and JJ was sure that the physical pain must have been excruciating. “Morgan, you need to lie flat.” JJ pleaded uselessly. She moved to turn him over again, but wasn’t sure how to touch him without causing him more pain.

It was hard enough watching a stranger go through the grief, and the sadness, but seeing such agony on the face of a friend is exponentially worse. Tears pricked JJ’s eyes as she struggled to find something, anything to say. The pain inside Morgan finally found a voice, but it was quiet, the intensely sorrowful weeping of a parent for a lost child, or a lover for a lost partner. The small noises terrified JJ, she had never seen Morgan be so vulnerable as he was in that scarily long moment. He could barely catch his breath as he gulped in air, and JJ tried as best she could to wipe his tears away but she was not nearly fast enough. All she could do was hold his hand and wait for the flood to subside; all she could do was wait helplessly until Morgan came back to her from the dark places in his mind.

And after several long minutes, he did remerge, finally opening his now reddened eyes. But it was a different Morgan, one who had found anger deep within himself and brought it to the surface. “JJ.” He said, his voice hardened by grief, “What happened?”

“Morgan, you couldn’t have done anything. It was an accident.” Her tearful eyes bored into his, imploring him to understand.

“It was murder.” He corrected, almost spitting. “Tell me what happened.”

“No.” She said resolutely, standing. “I need to go find the doctor again. Your family will be here soon, and—"

Morgan stopped her by grabbing her arm, his grip firm around her thin forearm. His eyes were cold, and JJ warily looked down at his hand. She had never seen him as terrifyingly harsh as he was now, not even during the Buford cases, not even when Emily died, not with any unsub that the team had pursued. “No JJ. I need to know.”

“Morgan I can’t tell you.” She said evenly, trying to pull away. 

“Can’t? Or won’t?” He pushed himself up with his free hand until he was sitting, his feet swinging over the side if the bed. 

“Let me go, Morgan!” She said firmly, much like the way she talked to a petulant Henry. But this was far beyond her motherly powers of authority, and Morgan was not a child.

“JJ, just tell me!” Even with Morgan injured, JJ was at the mercy of his vicelike grip, and she twisted wildly to get out of his reach. 

“Derek, stop!” She pleaded, still trying to pull away. For the first time, a thrill of fear went down her spine; it was like a stranger was holding her tight instead of a team member.

Morgan swung his legs over the side of the bed, the pain forgotten, and JJ saw the IV needle pull out of his hand as he grabbed for her other arm. “JJ, I need to know!” He was on his feet and shouting now as hot, angry tears streaming down his face once again, and JJ wrenched wildly, twisting away from his grip just as the door slammed open.

“Morgan!” Emily cried, taking in the situation. The new voice confused him, and as he looked towards the door, his body betrayed him and he fell towards the bed, no longer able to support himself. She ran into the room with Fran and Desiree close on her heels, and two nurses ran in right behind them. Morgan was panting with exertion and pain, and as one nurse jabbed a needle into his forearm, he settled into his normal mind. He saw Reid go over to JJ, who was clutching her wrist to her chest. As he drifted off to sleep, his grief-stricken eyes found JJ’s. Although he expected them to be terrified, instead he found himself looking into blue pools of pity, her empathy overcoming her fear. His eyes closed, and he was carried off to unconsciousness once again, where all he could do was wait to wake up.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

The next time Morgan woke up, it was his mother and sister next to his bedside. Aching soreness had settled into his body, and a fleecy haze had fallen over his mind. His brown eyes opened to his mother’s kindly face, wrinkled with worry and lack of sleep that only compounded her aging skin. “Derek?” Her voice was soft, as was her gentle hand on his shoulder. “Derek, can you hear me?”

“Mom.” His eyes opened partly, but he was still sedated, just in case he exploded again. They hated to do it, but the deepening bruises on JJ’s arm were not there by accident. Morgan blinked, adjusting to the bright lights, and exhaled deeply. 

“Hey Derek.” Desiree said, coming in on his other side. She leaned over and kissed his forehead, smiling gently. 

“What’s going on?” He mumbled. The drugs in his head were making it hard to concentrate; he his thoughts whirled as he tried to focus. His family’s faces swam before his eyes, and his hand felt strange as he rubbed his eyes, like he was moving through jello.

“Just relax.” Fran said, putting his hand back down and running a dry, creased palm over his brow. “You’re sedated.”

“What happened?” He asked, stretching gently. His entire body was filled with lead, anchored to the sheets despite his best efforts to move. “What day is it?” He strained against the fuzziness, but his only reward was a renewed exhaustion as he recognized the futility of his actions and let himself lie limply under the soft cotton blankets. Fran raised the electronic bed a little, so that Morgan could see the room. His eyes roved almost lazily around the room, taking in his surroundings as well as his family’s face in front of him.

“You were shot at the diner, but the doctors say that you will be fine with a little rest. You’ve ben unconscious for about a day and a half.” Desiree leaned over and hugged him, jostling him and causing him to wince. “God, I’m sorry. Sorry.”

“I’m fine.” He mumbled. “I woke up before…JJ was here.” The memory quickly came to the forefront of his blurred mind, and his eyes opened wider in recognition. “JJ…she said…Eli.” His voice slurred under the drug’s influence, but the medication did nothing to assuage his emotional anguish.

“He’s gone, Derek.” Desiree said. “You did everything you could.”

A tear dripped down Morgan’s face as he stared at the ceiling, and Fran’s heart broke. “It wasn’t your fault, Derek.”

“And the other boy?” He questioned urgently, turning to face her. “The one with the gun. Did we get him? Hotch and the team?” Fran hesitated, but Derek’s anxious gaze drew her in. “He’s gone too, isn’t he? He’s dead?” The electronic tracing of his heart jumped on the screen, and Desiree stood up quickly to run for a nurse, frozen as she waited to see if he would be okay.

“Derek, calm down, or they’ll put you to sleep again. Just calm down.” Fran took his clenched fist in her soft hands, imploring him with scared eyes. His breaths evened and his heart rate slowed as the tension seeped from his body. 

Desiree sat back down, adjusting the pillows around his head. “It’s going to be okay, Derek. You just need to hold on.”

His breathing gradually evened, and he closed his eyes again, as if they were too heavy to hold open any longer. “Eli’s gone.” He stated, tasting the words on his tongue for the first time. “He’s dead.”

“I’m sorry, love.” Fran said, her wet eyes matching his. “I’m so sorry.” She leaned over, wrapping Morgan awkwardly in a hug, but he flinched away at the last moment and she pulled back. “Derek?”

His eyes were still closed, but he squeezed them shut even tighter, pain radiating through his mind and body. “Why wasn’t it me?”

“Derek, you can’t think like that.” Desiree’s voice was suddenly harsh; she had known that this would eventually bubble to the surface. They had all known, really. The team had talked about the survivor’s guilt in hushed voices, as there wasn’t really a question of if it would come. Really, the only question was of how long it would take. “It’s not your fault. I mean, you got shot.”

“I could have stopped it.” Morgan’s insides were filling with regret heavier than the drugs that subdued him, he could feel it creeping into his core, latching onto his heart. “Eli’s gone. I could have done something.”

“What would you have done, Derek?” Fran asked gently. “You did everything you could. Your team was there, they saw what you did.” A lone tear leaked out the corner of his eye, and he didn’t respond. “Derek. Look at me, Derek.” but Morgan turned his head away, and the two women didn’t need to be profilers to interpret the expression on his face. Fran sat back down, giving her stubborn son space to think. Desiree did the same, falling back into her chair as her own hear ached for Eli, and for Derek. What he was going through…she inhaled deeply, pausing for a moment to mentally step back and celebrate the fact that Derek was awake. 

When the wetness was finally vacant, Morgan opened his eyes. “I want to talk to Hotch.” His voice was hoarse, but the anger inside of him resonated through his words. 

“I’ll go get him.” Desiree said quietly, walking out the door. Fran and Morgan were left in silence and he lied motionless under her steady gaze. 

“Derek…” She began.

“No. I don’t want to hear it,” he interrupted sternly. “Go get some rest. I’m sure you haven’t left my bedside since you’ve gotten here.”

“But…”

“I’ll be fine. My team is here.” Fran stood, pressing a gentle kiss to her son’s forehead before she too walked out the door. Morgan exhaled deeply. Eli’s face was branded on the front of his mind, consuming all of his attention, but beneath the image his subconscious raced with confusion. He laid his head back, staring at the ceiling as he heard footsteps approaching his room. The door opened, but instead of Hotch a white-coated doctor stepped into the room. 

“Agent Morgan. Good to see that you’re awake. I’m James Scott, your attending physician. Your sister caught me just before I left for the day.” He grabbed the clipboard from the end of the bed and a pen from his pocket, checking the readouts of the machine. “Your blood levels are pretty low, so we’ll keep you here for a while on some meds for that. And obviously, pain meds for the ribs and the trauma. Anything else, or should I go get Agent Hotchner?”

“My mother...she said I was sedated?” Morgan could feel it still coursing through his veins and for the first time the doctor looked uncomfortable. 

“Right. Well, the drugs won’t put you out, they just keep you still while your liver heals. Are they wearing off?” He checked his chart again, frowning. “I’ll grab a nurse.”

“I don’t need that doctor. I’ll keep still. Don’t have the energy to move anyways.” Morgan was still distracted, but he didn’t miss the doctor’s slight hesitation. “What?”

“I have my orders, Agent Morgan.” He took his glasses off and polished them on the sleeve of his coat before setting them back on his nose and turning to walk out of the room. “Now if there is nothing else…”

“Who’s giving you orders? You’re my doctor.” Morgan insisted. He tried to sit up, but his head swam and he fell back into the pillows. 

“Agent Hotchner will be in to explain momentarily, he’s waiting just outside the door.”

“But…” Morgan’s voice trailed off as Hotch stepped into the room, his suit as perfectly arranged as his grave face. “Hotch. Tell me what’s going on. I remember you guys showing up at the diner…and that’s it. And then JJ…did I wake up?” 

“Well, we tried negotiating, but the gunman, Helmsley, released all of the hostages except you and Eli. His plan had something to do with a bomb, but as he was making it Eli went over to get another Gatorade. Helmsley had put his gun down, and Eli reached over to grab it, but…Helmsley saw and dropped the bomb. It detonated, and Eli and Helmsley were right next to the blast.” Hotch knew there was no better way to tell him, but he could feel Morgan’s heart breaking again as he processed the words. Hotch’s gaze softened, but knew that all he could do for Morgan was to give him the truth. “Does any of this sound familiar?”

Morgan nodded silently, staring deadly at the opposite wall. “I think so. In the back of my mind.”

Hotch swallowed heavily and kept going. “By the time we got in, you were almost unconscious and there was nothing the paramedics could do for either boy. They took you to the hospital, and apparently it was touch and go for a while because you had lost so much blood, but they got you stabilized and treated all of your injuries. Last night, JJ was sitting with you when you woke up. You were…not yourself. Morgan, you…you grabbed JJ.”

“Grabbed? What do you mean?” His expression had turned from anguish to intense confusion. 

“While you were talking, you got upset with her and grabbed her arm, and you wouldn’t let go. We had to physically restrain you to get you back to bed.”

“That’s why…the drugs…oh God.” Morgan closed his eyes briefly before opening them wide again in a minor panic. “Is she alright? JJ, is she okay?”

“She’s fine. A couple of bruises, but otherwise fine.” Hotch reassured him. 

“Can you ask her to come in?” Morgan asked, somewhat embarrassed. “I want to talk to her.”

“Morgan, she doesn’t blame you.” Hotch began. His gaze read every twitch of Morgan’s face, every microscopic reaction to his words.

“I just want to apologize, Hotch. Just send her in.” His annoyance was growing as the drugs wore off, and he prayed that they didn’t come in to dose him again. 

“Morgan, she’s not here. She went home to be with Henry and Will and to get some work done. I’ll call her and tell her, but…” 

“No. It’s fine.” He tried to sit up straighter, but winced as he jostled the stitches and saw Hotch’s face morph into concern. “I’m fine. And no more of this sedation. I know the truth, I’m not going to explode again.” Hotch nodded silently in understanding as he left the room, closing the door behind him and leaving Morgan alone again to idly wonder exactly how many more people his actions had hurt.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

“So he’s awake?” JJ confirmed, cradling her phone to her ear as she scrubbed a dirty dish. Next to her, Will raised his eyebrows curiously, drying a bowl she had given him. 

“Getting back to his old self.” Rossi answered. JJ heard the sound of sirens on his end, but they quickly faded away. “Not much going on here, Blake and I are heading back to DC this afternoon to join Hotch. Morgan’s family and Garcia and Emily are staying here, Reid might be as well.”

“I might drive down to see him tomorrow,” she said absently. Will nodded his encouragement, taking the now clean dish from her hands. JJ thanked her lucky stars that she had Will in her life, he was a rock in times like these. She knew that she could depend on him to not let her fall apart.

“He’s asking to see you. He wants to talk to you about what happened.” JJ sucked in a breath, and Will set down the dish he was holding looking concerned. 

“I was hoping he wouldn’t remember that.” She looked down at her wrist, which was painted in purplish bruises and still tender to the touch. “How much is he remembering about the diner?” She dried her hands on the dishtowel, wincing when she hit the bruises, and took her phone over to the couch. She sat down heavily, flicking off the cartoons that Henry had been watching earlier.

“He remembers pretty much up to the time we got there, but by then he had lost too much blood. He didn’t remember what happened last night, but it eventually came back to him. They took him off the heavy sedatives, but he’s still on a morphine drip, so he’s pretty drowsy. Desiree and Fran are talking to him now, explaining what happened.”

“Is Sarah still there?” JJ asked timidly. The woman’s grieving face was burned into the front of JJ’s mind, still scaring her whenever she tried to closer her eyes. JJ hadn’t slept well for the last couple of nights, and consequently Will hadn’t either. They would find themselves at the door to Henry’s room, watching the little boy sleep angelically as JJ reassured herself of his safety.

“Garcia’s has sort of taken Sarah under her wing, now that she knows Morgan will be alright. I think they’re back at the hotel making funeral arrangements.” Rossi yawned. “I’m going to make Blake drive home.”

“Good idea. Although she may be as sleep deprived as you.” JJ laughed lightly. 

“Hm. You’re probably right; could be dangerous. Well, looks like we’re leaving pretty soon. I’ll see you at work tomorrow?”

“Be safe.” She answered, hanging up. Will came back downstairs and sat down next to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her close. She obliged, cuddling into his arms. She looked up into his warm, compassionate eyes and smiled. A tear slipped from her eyes, and Will wiped it away with the pad of his thumb.

“What’s wrong, honey? Henry’s safe upstairs, I just checked on him.” His twang was filled with concern, but also a strangling pity. “JJ, hon, talk to me.”

“I don’t know.” She choked out. “Morgan…” 

“Morgan will be okay.” Will soothed, stroking her arm. 

“I know,” she hiccuped. “It’s not that, not really. I just…I can’t separate myself from this case. I can’t do it. I mean, I was right there.” She twisted around, tearfully begging for him to understand. “I was right there when they pulled the bodies out. And when Sarah Dunn was at the hospital. I would just watch her, wondering how she stayed sane. It’s like…I was obsessed. I couldn’t stop thinking about…what if…what if…Henry…”

“Shh.” Will whispered. His arms tightened around her as she cried the tears that had been waiting to fall since she got home. “It’s okay, Jayje. Shh.” 

“I just…I saw those boys. The explosion plays back in my head over and over, and Morgan…he was so scared, and we couldn’t help him,” she babbled. “It was horrible. I’ve seen things like it. Scenes, deaths…but this, I just…I was right there, and…”

“Mommy?” Henry’s pure, small voice interrupted her, and she slipped off the couch onto the floor to gather him into her arms. “Mommy, are you alright?”

“Sure, baby,” she responded, stroking his hair. Will watched them, still a bit concerned, but less so now that JJ had her arms around her son. The little boy seems to be working wonders as JJ slowly regained her composure. “I’m okay. A friend of mine is hurt right now, so I’m a little sad.”

“Is he going to be okay?” Henry asked. His eyes looked just like his dad’s; even though they weren’t the same color they held the same deep concern for the woman both of they boys loved with all their hearts. 

“Yeah, Henry, he’s going to be fine. I might need to spend some extra time away from you. Is that alright?” She placed a finger underneath his chin, lifting his pale face to hers and kissing him on the forehead. The little boy nodded vigorously, and JJ forced a smile onto her face to reassure him. “Go play with your toys, buddy. I want to talk with daddy for a little bit, okay?”

“Okay mommy!” He scampered up the stairs, and as JJ heard his footsteps fading away, she sank back against Will’s legs, laying her head on the cushion behind her. 

“He’s so…fragile.” She said, defeated. “After the case last year, when you got shot, and she…that woman…” --venom curled on JJ’s tongue--“that monster, was in our house… I thought things would go back to normal. We won, we saved henry, and you…But now, after this.” She took a deep breath, and Will could see the shadows of her job catching up with her. “Sometimes close enough doesn’t end well.”

“Babe…” He started softly, sliding onto the floor next to her, “It was out of your hands. The only person that could have stopped it was the one that started it. Henry’s here, he’s safe. That’s all you should think about.” He paused, letting his words develop. “If you start putting fact into what-ifs, what kind of life will that be for you? And Henry?”

They sat in silence on the carpeting, Will’s hand resting on her knee. JJ’s eyes were fixed on the opposite wall, and Will could see her numbly processing his words. After a couple of minutes had passed, Will began to stand up, but she quickly broke her stupor, tensing and glancing up with needy eyes. “Babe, I was just going to get you some tea. I’ll be right back.” He said gently, covering her hand with his own.

She leaned back into the couch. “Sorry,” she murmured.

“No, no Jayje, it’s fine. I’ll just put the water on and I’ll be right back.” He walked into the adjacent kitchen, and JJ reluctantly followed him, restlessly shuffling around the kitchen, getting out a mug and a tea bag. She kissed the side of his face as he turned the stove on, and he captured her lips with his own for another second. He pulled her to the bar stools on the other side of the island and they sat down quietly. “So what else is going on? I know it’s not just Henry.”

“Helmsley,” She answered shortly. “He killed four people, including himself. But he’s not a killer, he’s not one of our unsubs. He’s just…a boy. I don’t think he meant to hurt anyone.”

“Jay, he had a gun.” Even as he said it, the words formed a poor defense. “He was making a bomb. He killed people.”

“He was high,” JJ said, “and then he panicked. They think the bomb wasn’t meant to kill. It was an accident. The whole thing…it was just a tragic accident.”

“No.” Will disagreed flatly. He had heard as much of the story as he could from bits and pieces that filtered in from the rest of the team. “Whatever happened, it was tragic, but it was no accident. Helmsley could have surrendered, he could have let the hostages go. It was his decision to use the drugs, to shoot the girl. Accidents may have made it worse, but he did it on purpose. Jay, think about it.”

“Think about it?!” His words triggered something inside her, some anger that had been smothered by worry over the past could of days. But now, as they were talking, it exploded. Her words came fast and furious, and her eyes were fuming. “All I have done since it happened is think about it. I can’t stop thinking about it, Will. You weren’t there. They pulled the bodies out of the wreckage, all four of them. Four, Will. Four people are dead. Morgan is in the hospital, by some miracle. You think I can stop thinking about this?" She stared at him for a moment before storming from the room, walking straight out the front door. She walked out onto the porch, letting the meager sunlight and cool temperatures calm her down. She breathed in deeply, leaning on the wraparound railing and letting the stress run out of her body. Strangers walked down the street in front of her, or watered their flowers, or got their mail, unaware of the chaos that inhabited her body. As she sank down onto the sun-warmed deck boards, she heard the kettle whistle on the stove. It cut off as Will took it off the burner, but the noise, loud and shrill, remained in JJ’s head, melding with the echoes of the explosion that she just couldn’t escape.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14  
“DAMMIT!” Morgan yelled. Garcia, who had been outside the room on her cell phone with Hotch, poked her head back in, looking startled.

“What’s wrong?” She demanded. Even Hotch had heard his yell over the phone, and was demanding to know what had happened. 

Fran smiled and took the remote from her son’s hand, tossing it across the room to Reid, who grinned and tucked it between his skinny leg and the chair. “They missed the field goal.” She flipped the channels, landing on a cooking show. “You’re supposed to be resting, Derek. I’ll take away your remote if you switch back to ESPN. Too much stress for you.”

Garcia rolled her eyes and stepped back outside, relaying the news to Hotch. Morgan winced, feeling his side. “Alright, that did hurt a little bit,” he admitted. “But seriously, I’ve been watching cooking shows for the past four hours.” His family had been good for him, they wouldn’t let him fall back into the sulky sadness he had mired in when he first woke up. Their distractions, along with Garcia’s unstoppable chattering and Reid’s silent but supportive company, had kept him out of his own head for most of the morning. Although it was getting annoying, he was inwardly thankful for their actions. 

Dr. Scott walked in as he was playfully fighting Reid for the remote, and a smile cracked his mildly wrinkled face. “Glad to see that pain’s not too bad.” He said, surveying the room. “On a scale of one to ten?”

“Seven.” Morgan answered, laying back. “Five or six if I don’t think about it.” 

“That bad?” The doctor responded. His surprise sent a current of worry through the room, and they quieted down. “Where?” He put his clipboard down and began to palpate Morgan’s abdomen carefully.

“There.” Morgan grunted when the doctor hit the tenderness. “I don’t need more medicine, though. It’s fine.”

“Just to be sure, we should get you in for a scan. The morphine should be controlling most of the pain. Like I said before, we should be cautious of problems from your blood loss and liver trauma.” He marked something on the charts and checked his watch. “I’ll be right back.”

“Dr. Scott?” Reid interrupted. “Are you worried about something specific?” 

He sighed. “There shouldn’t be that amount of pain, especially with the amount of morphine we’re giving him. I’ll check it out, but I can’t see any immediate danger.”

“I’m sure it’s nothing.” Desiree soothed. “Derek’s just doing it for the attention.” Her teasing tone lightened the room, but her worried eyes spoke differently. “You should have seen him when he sprained his ankle in football. Cried about it for a week.”

“Used getting shot as an excuse to show off his abs.” Garcia added, coming back into the room. She perched on the edge of the bed, patting his good leg. “Just teasing.”

“Oh come on now,” Morgan said defensively. “You forget that just got shot and blown up. If I was doing it for attention I would have just picked one.” They laughed and then settled into an uncomfortable silence, watching the TV idly until Dr. Scott came back with a nurse.

“Alright, time to clear out, folks. We managed to snag the one open machine in the whole hospital. Sit tight, we’ll be back in an hour or so. Derek, you okay with that?” His authoritative tone made it more of a statement than a question, and Derek nodded his mute agreement. Even though he was trying to keep a calm face for his family, fear pulsed through his veins. He had been listening to every word the doctor said about the risks, about the long-term consequences. He knew deep down that his future as an agent could ride on the outcome of these tests. “Nothing to be afraid of, Derek. You’ll be fine.” Dr. Scott seemed to read his mind, and all Morgan could do was nod again. 

He cleared his throat, looking at his friends and family. They were here to take care of him, but Morgan felt like he had to help them too, to hold them up through the times. “You heard the man. I’ll be fine. See you soon.” The doctor and the nurse began to wheel him out of the room, and as they wound their way through the hallways at a clipped pace, Morgan’s mind was left to wander. Suddenly, he realized he had no idea what day it was. “hey Doc?” He asked. “How long has it been since the explosion?” 

The look of surprise on the doctor’s face concerned Morgan for some reason. “Well…” He began, looking at his watch. “Three days ago, now going on four. No one told you?”

“Didn’t think to ask.” Morgan responded. Three days, almost four. Eli had been dead for three days. “So…today is…” He tried counting the days in his head, but got confused.

“Today’s Sunday.” Dr. Scott said gently. “It’s perfectly understandable that you’re confused, you lost two days before you woke up, and had some head trauma on top of that. It’s remarkable that you are as coherent as you are.” The arrived in the small room, and Dr. Scott and the nurse helped Morgan stand up for the first time since the incident. 

“Support yourself on our shoulders, don’t put any weight on your foot, and try not to twist. Just sit down, and we’ll help you lay back.” They guided Morgan’s feet over the edge of the bed and lifted his torso, making him grimace as the pain shot through his body. They paused for a moment and let him catch his breath. “We can’t stop now. You can do it, Derek.”

The condescending encouragement annoyed him until he realized that he had gone from one of the best bodies at the bureau to one of the weakest. He stumbled a bit, but using all his strength he slowly stood up on his good leg, panting as he fought to stay upright. They shuffled him forward and gently sat him down on the table, releasing a heavy grunt of pain from Morgan’s clenched teeth. His entire body was sore, and sweating in exhaustion, but his torso throbbed with a pain that made all else seem completely laughable. “Derek? Are you okay?” Dr. Scott asked, holding Morgan’s body straight. After a few seconds of sitting down, he regained control and put his hands out on either side to steady himself. 

“I’m good. Just…not again. I can’t do that again.” He couldn’t believe he was hearing himself say the words, hearing himself admit defeat. He never thought he would be capable of admitting defeat. Even as a kid, when Buford…no. He never accepted defeat. 

“Not a problem, Derek. I’ll have some other people in here to help when we are done. Now, I’m just going to check a few more things before we get started with the tests. Do you want to lie down?”

“Please.” The nurse and Dr. Scott supported him as he leaned back, their strong hands reassuring after the trial he had just been through. 

“Just relax. Deep breaths.” The nurse prompted, holding the stethoscope to Derek’s chest. The young man took his pulse as well, making notes in his chart. “Looks good, Derek.” He said, handing the chart off. “Dr. Scott, do you need me for anything else?”

“No, I’ll call for you when we’re done here.” He peered down at Morgan, smiling. “Still doing okay?” 

“Still hurts.” Morgan said. He pointed to the area on his abdomen, and the doctor probed it experimentally once again. Morgan swore, and clenched his teeth.

“I can see that.” His brow creased, but he didn’t share his concerns with Morgan. “Well let’s check it out. You know the drill, I’m sure. Absolutely no movement. if you need something, just say it. I’ll be right on the other side of the glass. It will be about forty-five minutes, I want to be thorough.”

“Just get it over with.” Morgan said. He could feel himself being slid into the chamber, like being swallowed into the stomach of a beast. He let the mechanic whirring take over his ears as he dove into his mind, grateful for some time to himself. As expected, his mind immediately turned to Eli. The name was like a broken record in his head; he could not get past the boy’s face to think about other things, to process, to find causes or consequences. He felt tears prick at the corners of his eyes, but held them in. They would not help anyone. It was too late to help anyone. 

It was almost surreal as he thought back to the diner. It felt like only a day ago that he and Eli had begun the fateful afternoon, before…he forced himself to think it, to face it…before Eli died. He was gone. Morgan forced himself to think back to the event, running through it like a fuzzy film reel in his head. He traced his steps in the diner, watched the gunman pull his gun and shoot the girl. One body down. His mind got lost in the chaos that ensued, but he heard the second shot sear through his head, saw the woman drop. He watched her last moments over again, a horror movie bloodbath in a diner. Two bodies down. He felt the bullet in his own body, the weakness consuming him. Three bodies down.

But he was alive, by some miracle. No, not a miracle. Eli had saved him, had protected him. When it should have been the other way around. He brushed the comments off, silently chastising himself for his guilt, but it was easier to feel guilty than to admit the whole situation was out of his control. He forced himself into his memory once again, finding himself lying on the floor as Flak positioned the hostages at the windows. The girl, Linnea, had helped him as well. And then his team showed up…but then what? The SUVs had pulled up, and he saw JJ…and Hotch…but…he dug into the stores of his memory, desperately trying to find the rest of the story.

Dr. Scott’s voice interrupted his thoughts through a tinny speaker. “Derek, you doing okay?”

“I’m good.” He responded, opening his eyes to stare at the top of the chamber, “All good.”

“We’re almost done here. Just hang in there a few more minutes.” Derek returned once again to his head, struggling to find the memory. It felt like he had used all the puzzle pieces, only to find out there were still empty spots in his picture. He could feel himself giving up again, resigning himself to the fact that he would never recover the memories. Even the moments he did remember were fuzzy.

Derek just felt weak and lost. He had next to no idea how he had gotten into this situation, and even less of an idea of how he was going to get out. His mind flickered for a moment to Flak, or Helmsley, or whatever his name was, and he felt a surge of anger. The idiot kid had decided to get high and confront his ex-girlfriend with a gun, and now four people were dead. Three people, three innocent people, and then he took his own life. He was a coward. He was a murderer. He was a scar on the face of society. But as Morgan hurled every insult he could at the killer, a small voice in the back of his head said the opposite. He was a boy, the voice told him. He had a family. Society made him the way he was. He couldn’t have done anything to stop it. He wasn’t cruel and cold-blooded. He was just…human.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

They wheeled Morgan back into the room about forty-five minutes later, test results in hand. The room was empty except for Garcia, who was glued to the tiny screen of her smartphone. But when she heard the wheels squeak on the waxed linoleum, her head snapped up, masquerading her fear with her typically cheery pep. “Nice field trip?” she grinned, scooting her chair closer.

Morgan didn’t respond, but Dr. Scott smiled. “Lovely,” he responded. “And productive. Don’t worry, there’s nothing seriously wrong with him. Derek, your little bout of activity has affected the healing; your liver has actually torn a bit more, which can happen sometimes. It’s not something that requires surgery, but I need to insist on either sedation or complete cooperation from you. If you don’t stay completely still for the next twenty four hours, we will have to operate.”

“Is that it?” Morgan snorted. His tone was cold. “Twenty-four hours? Well, it’s not like I have anything better to do.” He closed his eyes, sighing heavily. His mood was such a complete turnaround from before the scan that Garcia took a moment before she spoke. 

“But nothing serious,” she confirmed, twisting a tendril of her blonde hair around her finger. 

“Right. As long as you stay still, your liver will heal and you’ll be out of the woods.” The doctor took one last long glance around the room, and consulted his board. “Looks like I’m finished here. If you need anything, don’t call me, I’ll be sleeping.” He smiled heartily, but his grin faltered as he caught the tension in the room. “There’s an on-call doctor that will be in tonight, and you can always ring the nurses. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He finished lamely, walking out the door.

“So what’s going on?” Garcia insisted immediately.

“I’m staying still.” Morgan said, staring up at the ceiling. “I’m healing. Following orders.”

“Cut the attitude, Morgan.” She said coolly. Even though she always tried her hardest to be sunny and friendly, the events of the past couple of days had taken their toll on her, and she was hurt by his evasiveness. “What’s going on?” Her voice was quiet, but filled with a yearning to make things right in the world.

His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides. “I don’t want to talk about it right now.” 

“I can wait. Just tell me when.” Garcia said, leaning in close. “Morgan, you can’t keep us away.”

“Babygirl, I just need some time to think. I can’t move, I can barely stay awake, there’s no way I can fight you on this. Just…please.” She looked even more worried now than when he had come back into the room, and as she began to sit back down, Morgan spoke again. “Can you just go?” She let out a little gasp as he closed his eyes. “I don’t mean it like that, Penelope. Just… keep my family company. Can you get Reid for me?”

“Reid? Yeah...uh, of course. I’ll go get him.” She gathered up her things, but paused at the threshold, looking back. Morgan stared up at the ceiling, his forehead wrinkled with intense concentration. “Are you sure you don’t want to talk?”

“Garcia, please. Just get Reid.” Her heels clicked away on the hard tile down the hall, once again leaving Morgan with his thoughts. Or lack of thoughts…the only thing running through Morgan’s mind was Eli’s face. The worst part was he did not know what damage had been done to that face, he had no idea whether it had been ripped to shreds or left intact. He could imagine, though, and that was almost worse than knowing. 

“You called?” Reid said wryly, standing at the door.

“Yeah, kid. I just…need someone who won’t bother me.”

Reid smiled lightly. “I suppose I can do that.” Leaning against the wall, the set his bag down on the floor and casually folded his lanky arms across his chest. “Is there anything else?”

“No.” It was short, but it was also hurt, and worried, and sad, and angry. The silence stretched out like taffy, each one waiting for the others to break the tension. “I changed my mind.” Morgan said slowly. “Talk.”

“About what?” Reid asked. He tucked his hair behind his ear, walking over next to the bed and sitting down in the chair.  
“Anything.” Morgan replied heavily. “Please, just start talking.”

“Oh. Okay. Um...” At a loss for words, Reid looked desperately around the room. His eyes roved wildly; he was searching through his mind for something relevant, or at the very least something interesting. “There’s new mathematics coming out that is expected to provide breakthrough releases in contour recognition algorithms.”

“Well, it’s better than nothing,” Morgan groaned. “You got anything else kid?”

“Fingerprints.” Reid explained, continuing his original vein. “Contour recognition? Researchers are working on programs that will be able to improve existing fingerprint recognition algorithms to identify prints from photos or reconstruct partials in a viable way using empty space equations.” Morgan didn’t respond, so even more words began to spill out of the young genius’ mouth. “They’re using the same math to create more algorithms that can clarify blurry images by identifying linear recurrences and finding their origins. You’re not even listening to me, are you?”

“Reid, I don’t speak math.” Morgan sounded annoyed, and Reid recoiled slightly from his tone.

“You barely speak at all,” he grumbled to himself. 

“What?” Morgan said sharply. He had obviously heard Reid’s words. A stinging attitude entered his tone, so acidic that it could be used as a solvent. “I’m sorry if I’m not feeling especially talkative, but an 18 year old kid was just killed, and I was just shot.”

Reid rubbed his forehead anxiously. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Oh no. I know exactly what you meant.”

“Morgan, stop it…”

“No, you stop it!” He said hotly. He was still staying stock still, as the doctor had ordered, but every muscle in his body was locked with tension. Reid shut his mouth quickly, struck from words once again. “This was a bad idea. Maybe you should just go.”

“You’re the one who wanted me to talk.” Reid responded angrily. His normally level head was warped by a combination of exhaustive worry and unspeakable hurt, and it manifested in an unusually fiery temper. “Well, I’m talking. Maybe you should listen.” Morgan closed his eyes and relaxed a little, his silence acknowledging that even Reid now had power over his frozen body. “Listen, I’m trying to understand what you’re going through. I think I actually know a little bit of how you’re feeling. I lost Maeve.” His voice began to edge on hysteria. “She died right in front of me, Morgan. I still can’t get the images out of my head. I said the wrong thing, I did the wrong thing. I know what it’s like.”

“This isn’t what I wanted to talk about,” Morgan mumbled. 

“But it’s what you need to talk about.” Reid said. His anger was slowly being replaced by a compassionate urgency that was more typical of his demeanor. “I get it; you don’t want to do this now. But you can’t just…you can’t just hold it in. I know you. After Maeve, you guys had to force your way into my life. And now I’m here…and I’m okay.” 

“Kid…” Morgan started sadly. Even with Eli’s death was still fresh on his mind, it was impossible for him to ignore the pain in Reid’s past.

But Reid interrupted him again. “It’s okay. I’m alright. I’m never going to be okay with what happened. I loved Maeve. I mean…love her. But I’ve come to terms with it, and you will too. It won’t be today, it won’t be tomorrow, but it will happen.”

They sat in silence for a few moments, processing the thoughts that still hung heavy in the room. Reid had still been leaning against the wall, but he slid down until he was sitting, his arms resting on his knees as he struggled to find something to say. “Oxytocin has been known to speed healing.” He commented after a few moments. “There have been numerous studies done that show an increase in oxytocin is beneficial to healing wounds.”

“I’ll bite.” Morgan responded, relieved the conversation had changed tack. “How do I get more oxytocin?”

“Depends on which study you read,” Reid continued. “It is released in your body through various social interactions in family members or romantic partners. A recent study showed that cuddling is an effective motivator for the release of oxytocin.”

“You want to get up here and cuddle with me then?” Morgan chuckled lightly, showing that all was forgiven, and Reid too smiled happily.

“Not a chance. Although if you want, I’ll call Garcia in and I’m sure she’ll accept your offer.”

“It’s alright.” Morgan said. “I’ll be out of here in a couple of days anyways.”

“It would have been tomorrow if you had let your liver properly heal.” His admonishing tone still had a hint of playfulness.

“Tell me something I don’t know. Wait—no, don’t. There’s too much I don’t know; we would be here all night.” 

“But isn’t that what you need?” Reid questioned innocently. “I have nothing better to do.”

“I guess it’s settled, then.” Morgan muttered, though not completely annoyed. “I’m sure you’ll put me to sleep anyways.”

“Sleep is actually a remarkably effective healing agent as well. Although researchers have recently been testing the possibility of something that could take the place of sleep, whether it be drugs, or homeopathic remedies, or…” But Reid’s rapid-fire voice had already lulled into background noise.

“Reid, I was wrong. Can you just…not?” Morgan asked cautiously, changing his mind once again.

“Not what?” Broken off in the middle of his monologue, he was a tad annoyed.

“Just…not talk? I don’t know.”

“I will talk, or I won’t talk, but I can’t do both. Tell me what you want.” The irked tone of his voice made Morgan think that there might be something more to it than a simple interruption.

“Just sit. No talking.” He decided, shutting his eyes. Reid snapped his mouth shut obediently but watched Morgan’s body resolutely for any signs of change, be them emotional or physical. For the first time in three days, Reid finally felt like he could take a breath. Despite the mismatched duo they made, here they were, easily reveling in the others’ silent presence that had been absent just days before. They had drawn the curtains to block the brilliant afternoon sunlight, but Reid lifted up a small corner, letting his eyes readjust before gazing down on the bustling grounds below. 

The light leaked onto Morgan’s face too, but the natural light felt good after being in the small box of a room for so long. “No, open the curtains a little bit.” Reid wordlessly pulled the cords until the sun flooded the room then turned back to Morgan with probing eyes, as if waiting for him to do something in return. In the back of Morgan’s mind, a niggling sensation told him to let it go, to tell Reid what he was really thinking, but he settled on the mildly more comfortable half-truths instead. “I know that rationally, once we walked into that restaurant and I engaged the unsub, I couldn’t have done any more than I did to protect Eli and the others.” Reid nodded slowly and carefully, letting him continue at his own pace. “I can’t remember it. Someone told me that he was killed in an explosion, that they were both killed, that I was there…but it’s like I can’t believe it. It’s not real yet. I know that it happened. I was shot in the line of duty. But Eli…you can’t convince me he’s not just back in Chicago with his family, waiting to go to college.”

“Morgan…he’s gone.” It was the only thing Reid could say, the only heartbreaking assurance he could give. 

“I know that.” He said heavily. “He’s dead. And the unsub’s dead. And there are two other women that were killed right in front of me, and I don’t even know their names.”  
“Do you want to know?” Reid’s voice was almost a whisper. “I can tell you.”

“I barely remember it happening, Reid. It’s all a blur. I couldn’t even tell you where they got shot, what they looked like…I just know that the gun went off, and two people were dead that shouldn’t have been.” A sort of remorseful fear clouded his face, but there was no upswell of tearful emotion as Morgan thought about the events. He wanted it, he wanted to feel something, but nothing came as the anonymous faces swam before his eyes, the faces of the two girls whose deaths, whose lives, whose names he didn’t even know.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Hotch and JJ had taken a few hours off the next day to drive up to the hospital and check in on Morgan, who, according to Garcia’s reports, was feeling better. JJ’s wrist was hidden underneath long sleeves that hid the worst of the bruising, but Hotch noted that she still favored her other hand. “Did you get that checked out?” He asked nonchalantly. “It looks pretty bad.”

“One of the nurses looked at it, but she said it wasn’t even a sprain, just bruises that will hopefully go away soon. I’m fine.” Hotch nodded and turned back to gazing over the top of the steering wheel at the highway that stretched before them. “And how are you?”

“I’m fine.” She responded lamely. “I know people say that when they’re trying to hide their emotions…but honestly, that’s how I feel right now. I talked through some things with Will, and I got some sleep, but I’m still worried about Morgan.”

“I understand.” Hotch responded thoughtfully, braking easily for a red light. They sat in silence, waiting for the light to change, and JJ turned her head slightly to look at him.

“How are you doing? This can’t be any easier for you than it is for me.” With anyone else, Hotch would have held back, but he valued JJ’s levelheadedness and insight, not to mention the friendship that had grown between them in the years they had been working together. 

“It’s hard,” he admitted, “Technically, the case is closed. There’s nothing to investigate. The brass is urging us to get started on another case, and I can only hold them back so much.”

“I’ve been getting some calls too.” JJ said, idly checking her phone. “They have a point. We can’t wait for Morgan to be healed to start working again.”

“Do you think the team would be okay if we took another case? “ Hotch questioned. “I’ll try to make it local.” 

The question caught her off guard, and she turned away from him, hesitating as she looked out the window. “The team’s willing to do whatever you tell it to do, Hotch. But I can’t make the decision for you.” She glanced at him from out of the corner of her eyes. “I know this isn’t my place, but…since when are you asking me about how the team is? Usually you can gauge it pretty well yourself.”

“I’ve been in the office for the past couple days, not at the hospital. I was just wondering how everyone is doing.” He clarified firmly. She dropped the subject, but it continued to occupy her thoughts as they pulled into the parking garage. 

They walked in silence through the echoing concrete structure and displayed their badges at the desk to get admission to the ward. As the two of them approached Morgan’s room, they were met with a collection of smiles. The room was crammed full of people scattered in various chairs, in corners, or in Desiree’s case, lying on the bed next to Morgan. Emily and Reid were chatting against the wall, and Garcia and Fran were in the cushy chairs on either side of Morgan’s bed. “Looks like someone’s feeling better!” JJ commented, leaning as close as she could and squeezing Morgan’s shoulder. “How are you doing?”

“Still healing. I’ll go for another scan this afternoon, and they’ll decide if I need more surgery, or if I can finally sit up again.” JJ was glad to hear that his voice was childishly whiny, as if someone had put him in a time-out for twenty four hours instead of bed rest.

“Be patient. You’ll be kicking down doors again soon enough.” She moved to make room for Hotch, giving Emily a quick squeeze before leaning next to her. 

“How’s the BAU?” Emily asked quietly. 

“Same as always.” JJ smiled. “Rossi and Blake are holding down the fort, and Hotch and I can only stay for a little bit before we have to head back. We need to take another case soon, and there is a pile of requests for consults building up in my office.”

“Do you guys need help?” Emily offered. “My skills may be a little bit rusty, but I’m sure I haven’t lost too much.” Her eyes were growing excited at the prospect of working with her team again and returning to the FBI.

“I think we can handle it.” JJ said cautiously, watching Emily’s disappointment. “You should be staying here with Morgan anyways. You didn’t fly thirty five hundred miles to work.”

“I have before,” she said dryly. “But I do have to go back to Interpol soon. I’m sure my team is furious with me for leaving.”

“I thought you said it you had it covered!” JJ admonished.

“I do. It means my team has to do more work, though. They’re not as fond of me as you guys were.”

“Are.” Reid corrected with a slight smile. “We are fond of you. And JJ—I can come back with you guys if you need me to.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it, Reid. We have it covered. You should stay here with Morgan.” 

“He’s got enough people here for him; I’d be much more useful at the BAU.” Reid argued. His face was gaunt, and had been getting worse, as if his well-being was inversely proportional to Morgan’s. His stick-thin body seemed like it could topple over at any moment, and JJ could tell that she wasn’t the only one concerned. Emily would glance at him every couple of minutes, subconsciously making sure he hadn’t been blown away by the breezy drafts of the air filtration systems.

“On second thought, we could probably use your help,” JJ amended quickly. “There’s a whole stack of cases piling up on my desk.” If she could get Reid back to the BAU, she could probably convince him to go home and rest.

“I’ll come back with you guys then.” Nodding and stuffing his hands in his pockets, Reid walked over to the window and peered out, turning has back on the rest of the room. Hotch looked over inquisitively, noticing the strange behavior, but JJ only shrugged her shoulders. JJ made a mental note to confront him about it later. Reid hadn’t been himself since the explosion, but most of the team had been occupied with Morgan’s recovery. 

The abrasive buzzing of a cell phone interrupted the conversations momentarily as everyone checked their phones to find the noise emanating from Hotch’s hip. He answered it brusquely and stepped from the room, shooting an uncharacteristically annoyed glance towards JJ, who interpreted it as a sign that the conversation was not going to go well. Even with the door closed, they could just make out Hotch’s boomingly authoritative tone growing increasingly frustrated.

“Must be the director.” JJ muttered. It wasn’t meant to be sarcastic, but she saw the corners of Emily’s mouth turn up. 

“How’s he doing?” She asked. The last time she had been to DC was when JJ and Cruz had gone missing; JJ’s wounds had healed, but Cruz’s stabbing had taken a bit longer.

“He’s back working full time.” JJ responded. “He was just cleared to go into the field…what, a month ago?” She asked, turning to Reid.

“Thirty seven days.” he answered quickly, looking up from a book he had begun to read.

“Reid, haven’t you read that before?” Emily asked, recognizing the familiar title. 

“It’s a favorite.” He licked his finger and turned the next page, his eyes hungrily devouring each word. Morgan chuckled, making Reid look up insolently. “What?”

“Isn’t that what an eidetic memory is for?” Emily asked. “Re-reading?”

“There’s nothing left in the hospital for me to read.” He shot back defensively.

Before JJ had a chance to intervene, Hotch strode back into the room. “We’ll have to cut the visit short; it’s time to head back. Cruz has a local case for us that needs our attention. Garcia, you can stay here, as long as you keep your computer with you. Reid, you’re coming back with us.” He leaned over and grasped Morgan’s hand firmly, muttering, “Listen to the doctors.”

JJ maneuvered her way through the people and gave Morgan a quick kiss on the cheek. “See you soon!” 

"JJ, I need to talk to you.” Morgan said, remembering his actions. 

“I’m fine, Morgan.” She said lightly, consciously pasting a sunny smile on her face. “You didn’t hurt me; and I don’t blame you for acting the way you did.”

“But…” 

“I’m fine, Morgan. I really have to get back to the BAU though. I’ll come back to see you when I can.” She reassured him, clenching his shoulder gently. As she turned to leave, Morgan’s voice cut through the room.

“JJ,” he called urgently. “Don’t leave. I mean it; I need to talk to you.” The other faces in the room were masked with worry and their eyes flitted between the two agents. 

JJ looked to Hotch, who cleared his throat. “I’ll take Reid back. JJ, get back when you can.” He turned and left the room and everyone else trailed out behind him, leaving JJ and Morgan in the oppressively empty room. JJ’s sunny expression had lessened, leaving her with a sad half-smile drooping on her face as she perched on the edge of his bed.

“JJ, I am so sorry.” His voice was soft and gentle, and he set one of his hands on her leg. “Hotch told me.”

“Morgan, I know you didn’t do it on purpose. And I should just have told you straight out.” She smiled reassuringly. “No harm, no foul, right?”

“But…Hotch said I grabbed you. Hard. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Morgan, don’t go there. I’m fine.” She folded her arms across her chest, hiding them from his reach. “There’s a couple of bruises. Nothing bad.”

“Show me. She me where I grabbed you.”

“It’s worse than it looks.” JJ said, gently rolling up her sleeve. When she revealed the purple skin underneath, Morgan drew in a pained breath, like the bruises were his own. JJ quickly rolled the sleeve back down and laid a restraining hand against his shoulder. “It barely hurts at all, Morgan.”

“JJ, I…”

“Just get over yourself, Morgan. It wasn’t your fault.” He was taken off guard by her crass tone. “Accidents happen.” As he stumbled over a response, JJ ran a hand through her hair. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that…”

“No, you’re right. I needed a good kick in the pants.” He watched her for a few seconds, listening to the weighty silence as they reflected on her words. 

“Look at us” JJ started moments later. “Falling apart at the seams. At least you have good reason.”

“That’s not what I would call it.”

JJ’s eyes grew wide. “Oh God.” She murmured. “No—Morgan, I didn’t mean it like that. I…”

“Relax Jayje, I know.” She stood up and paced around the small room, tying her hair back into a ponytail. “JJ, what’s going on? I’ll be fine; you heard the doctors. Just a couple of weeks of watching cartoons at home, and I’ll be good as new.”

She shook her head. “That’s not it.” Morgan could see emotions winding their way across her face as she paced around the room, her energy not allowing her to stay still. 

“JJ, please, tell me.” His concern grew with every second that she stayed silent. “It’s me, Morgan. I’ve known you for ten years now.” 

“We couldn’t stop it. You couldn’t stop it.” Her accusing words were like a slap across his face, causing him to recoil in surprise. “No, not like that. I mean…we couldn’t save him…Eli. As good as we are, however many times we do this, at the end of the day we can’t even protect ourselves.” Morgan was struggling to prop himself up on the bed, but JJ forced him gently back down. “No, you’ll hurt yourself more.”

He grabbed her hand, careful to avoid the bruises he had already given her, and looked into her eyes. “Stop. We can protect the people we love.” The thoughts he had been avoiding were forced to the surface by his concern for JJ. “What happened to Eli was horrible. I was there, of course I feel like I’m responsible. But I couldn’t stop it. I did as much as I could to protect him.” He took a deep breath, willing back the tears that threatened to spill over. JJ’s eyes were full too as they shared in the abject sadness of the past few days. “But JJ, you guys saved me. Every single hostage got out alive because of what you and I did. I don’t know them like I know Eli…but someone does. Think about it. Every single one of the people that walked out of the diner got to go back to their families.”

“But Eli…” JJ said cautiously. “Why him?”

“He sacrificed himself to save me.” Morgan said heavily, a tear finally dripping down his cheek. “I am angry as hell that he had to do that. But I understand. I was ready to do the same for him. He just saved me first. I’ve done it for someone else; you’ve done it for someone else…we take a bullet so another person won’t have to. This was Eli’s turn.” Morgan closed his eyes as JJ watched him. His words made sense to both of them, but they couldn’t wipe the freshness of the terrible loss from their minds. Morgan swallowed deeply, clearing his throat. “I keep remembering…when Eli was a kid. Just a toddler…I was babysitting him while Sarah and her husband went on a date. He took his first steps that night.” He smiled at the bittersweet memory. “I couldn’t tell Sarah. She would have been so pissed!” He chuckled once but trailed off, the smile sliding from his face like melted butter.

JJ nodded her understanding and wiped the moisture away from her own eyes. “He’s a hero, Morgan.” Her voice was shaky as she held his hand, felt it tighten around her own.

“That he is.” Morgan replied, still holding onto JJ’s hand. “I just wish he had not needed to be.”


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

It had begun to rain fiercely on the way home, the droplets coming down in sheets that made Hotch’s knuckles white on the steering wheel as he struggled to see through the windshield. Reid had fallen asleep almost as soon as he got in the car, his head lolling against the passenger side window and leaving Hotch alone in nervous silence as he drove through the treacherous weather.

As he pulled off the highway and onto the familiar route back to the FBI headquarters, he finally relaxed and reached over to shake Reid awake. “Reid, we’re almost back, you should wake up.”

The young agent rubbed his eyes blearily and yawned. “Already?” 

“Two and a half hours later.” Hotch corrected, checking his watch. “Reid, really, you should just go home. We’ll get a start on the case, you can join us after you’ve slept.” Seeing the mutinous look on Reid’s face, he tried one more time. “We need you at your best. This case needs your best.”

“I’m here Hotch, and I’m staying.” He said resolutely, stumbling slightly as his feet hit the ground. He stretched his arms wide, inhaling the cool, humid air as the last drops of the storm plopped gently on his face. “I’m ready.”

Hotch could feel the surreptitious stares of other agents glued to his back as he walked through the bullpen area, but Reid’s focus was occupied by making it to his desk without falling asleep. File in hand, Hotch climbed the steps to his office in two quick bounds, unlocking his door as he surveyed the office. Rossi’s door was open, light on, and Blake was at her desk, reading over some case reports as she nursed a tall cup of coffee. As Hotch walked into his office, flipping on the light and shaking the mouse to wake the computer, Rossi strode in and leaned against the doorjamb. “How’s Morgan?”

“Stable. Healing well, the doctors say he’ll be released in the next day or two.”

“Good to hear.” He replied, scratching his beard. “And we have a case?” It was more of a statement than a question, between the file in Hotch’s hand and the exhausted agent in the bullpen, it wasn’t hard to guess. “You would think that they might give us some time off.”

“It’s local, at least.” Hotch said appeasingly. “Can you get Blake and Reid to the briefing room?”

“Of course.” Rossi said. He disappeared from the doorway, and Hotch took a second to roll out his tense shoulders in the privacy of his office before joining his team. He fruitlessly massaged his muscles, trying to force them to relax, but soon gave up. He shrugged once and smoothed out his suit jacket, picking up the stack of files he had copied for the team. 

The briefing table seemed bigger, as they were missing three team members, but Hotch ignored the emptiness in the room. “Two victims so far, an Abby Ryles age 26 and Kenneth Sebing, age 39. Both killed and dumps in alleys about half an hour away from here. They were killed six days apart, so we cannot consider this a serial killer quite yet.”

“Why are we being called in?” Blake asked warily. Everything seemed cut and dry, but there had to be a reason.

“The killer left…images.” He said, handing out pictures. “Drawn on the body in the victim’s own blood.” The team only looked momentarily repulsed before becoming curious, trying to make since of the scarlet symbols that the killer had left them. Hotch continued, handing out the rest of the files and checking his watch. “We’ll set up at the local PD and work the case from there, JJ will join us when she can. We leave in fifteen minutes.” A yawn almost escaped from his lips, but he swallowed it and snuck his hand up to his neck to try and rub out the knots that had nestled into the fibrous muscle in the past few days of pure stress. 

Rossi remained in the room as Alex and Reid walked out, observing his old friend carefully. The wrinkles around his wizened eyes were scrunched into a curious expression that bordered on impudence. “What?” Hotch asked heavily.

“You.” Rossi said simply. “Wearing the weight of the world on your shoulders so no one else has to bear anything.”

“You make me out to be a saint.” 

“Your words, not mine, O holy one.” Rossi joked. “If you ever get tired carrying your burden, you know where to come.”

“Yes, I’ll come dump it all on your desk and leave for an early lunch.” He flipped off the screens and the overhead light, closing the door to the darkened room behind him.   
“Get your go-bag ready, you’re not as fast as you used to be.” A rare smile ghosted across his face as Rossi rolled his eyes, stepping into his own office. 

Before Hotch could get to his own desk, however, he noticed Reid’s slim body leaning against the door. “Hotch, I was meaning to talk to you on the car ride over, but…”

“Come in.” Hotch said, immediately on heightened alert. “What’s on your mind?”

“Well…Morgan.” Hotch moved to sit down at his desk, but Reid remained upright, silhouetted in the fluorescent glare from the lights over the bullpen. “I know physically he’s going to be fine, but I’m worried about his psychological state.” Reid stared at his hands, mentally searching for the appropriate words to broach the subject. “He’s not acting like a victim,” he said finally.

“Reid, he’s an accomplished agent, not to mention a survivor of multiple emotional and physical traumas. I can’t say I’m surprised.”

“Yes. Yeah, I understand. That’s not what I wanted to say…Morgan…it’s like he’s already grieved for Eli. He’s rational about it. He reacted when JJ told him what happened, and when Fran talked to him, but now, last night, when I was with him, it was like he refused to acknowledge that he had lost someone so close to him.”

“You think he’s compartmentalizing?” Hotch asked mildly. “Again, I’m not surprised.”

“No…” He said slowly, twisting his hands. “I guess I’m not surprised, but…isn’t that what he needs? Eventually he’s going to have to face it.”

“I trust that Morgan’s going to come to us when he needs help,” Hotch said unconvincingly. “But we need to focus on the case at hand. These victims need us, and right now, Morgan doesn’t. Wheels up in five. Get your things, and meet us at the garage.”


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18  
Emily stood in a small alcove just outside Derek’s room, talking fervently on her cell phone. “I understand Director Jameson, I’m just asking for a little more time. Just a day or two.” Rubbing the bridge of her nose, she turned away from the annoyed glance of a doctor as her frustrated voice permeated the hallway. “I told you, he’s stable now, with a good chance of full recovery, but…” She was cut off abruptly by the voice on the other end, and was taken aback. “Please, one more day is all that I am asking for…the team can take care of itself right now.” JJ walked by with Desiree, and she paused, but Emily waved her off. Although the two continued down the hallway, it was easy to hear Em’s impassioned protests. “You bought me a ticket?! For when?” She inhaled deeply, struggling to calm herself. “Yes director, I understand perfectly. I’ll be in tomorrow night.” She stared at the phone in her hand in abject anger, a fervent hatred reserved for solely for the soulless in Emily’s life.

JJ chuckled, leaning against the wall to Emily’s left, where she had eavesdropped on the tail end of the conversation. “So I take it you’re going back to England?”

Emily stepped out of the nave and shook her head. “My boss is an ass. She bought me a ticket for a flight back to England that leaves at 2:30 am. Then she had the gall to ask me to come in the moment I get back.”

“Ouch.” JJ squeezed her hand sympathetically. “Makes you want to come back to the BAU, doesn’t it?” Her knowing look made a smile dance across Emily’s lips, but she sighed.”

“Makes me wonder if the job is worth it.” JJ frowned, stopping Emily with a hand on her shoulder. As she was about to speak, Emily cut her off. “Don’t mind me, Jayje. You caught me at a bad time. The people are great and the work is good, seriously.” She waved her hand nonchalantly, but JJ wasn’t convinced.

“Do you need a ride to the airport? It’s on my way back to the BAU, and I should start driving pretty soon.”

“Yeah, I’m just going to say good bye to Morgan.” She ran a hand through her bangs, trying to calm herself down again. “God, I’m so wired,” she huffed. After another deep breath, she stepped into the room, a wide smile suddenly painted on her face. JJ stepped in after her, and Morgan matched their grins when he saw them. 

“I thought you ladies had left without saying goodbye!” He teased, tossing the remote down on the tray table. “Mama said not to hop for too much, but I told her that you two wouldn’t be able to resist me.” Fran chuckled ruefully and said, “I’ll give you guys some privacy,” quietly excusing herself from the room. Desiree followed her, a steaming cup of coffee in hand. 

“So let me guess…” Morgan started ruefully. “You guys get to rejoin the real world.”

“Believe me, not by choice.” Emily commented, earning a disapproving look from JJ. “My boss provided me with a ticket back to England for tomorrow morning. Apparently, my team is lost without me.”

“I know the feeling.” Morgan agreed, teasing her about the days or weeks that she had been absent from the BAU team. 

“Hey now, don’t get sentimental on me.” JJ said, gently hitting Morgan’s arm. “We don’t have time for that.”

“I just wanted to say goodbye,” Emily said, leaning down and kissing his cheek. Listen to the doctors, get well soon, and keep in touch.”

“Same to you. We’ll skype soon.” Morgan said. He opened his arms for a hug, and Emily elaned in, squeezing him once.

“Hey, you didn’t wince!” JJ declared happily.

“I told you, I’m feeling better.” Morgan explained. “I’m going home soon, whether they like it or not.” 

“So I heard. And then you have to stay home.” JJ emphasized the ‘stay’, knowing that it would be nearly impossible to keep Morgan in his house. “We’ll come visit you to make sure you behave; Henry’s been asking about you.”

“As well he should. I believe we had baseball lessons scheduled…I owe him.” Morgan had taken advantage of Will’s dislike of the great game and agreed to give Henry baseball lessons when the boy had expressed interest in playing. 

“Baseball will have to wait.” JJ said softly, going in to hug Morgan as well. “But I’m sure Henry would love to watch a game or two on TV. Once you’re home, we’ll talk more. If you need anything…”

“I’ll call. Thanks, Mom.” Morgan finished sarcastically. Fran had just arrived in the doorway, and she gasped in mock astonishment. 

“Derek Morgan, what did you say?” JJ dissolved into laughter, and even Emily’ smile was wide and genuine. Fran smiled good-naturedly as she lightly slapped Morgan’s shoulder, wagging a finger at his abashed countenance. 

“Nothing, mama. It’s JJ’s fault, she made me say it.”

“Tattling again, are you?” JJ chided. “I thought you had graduated elementary school, Derek.”

“Old habits die hard.” He responded.

“Well, it’s really time for us to go.” Emily interrupted apologetically, her eyebrows furrowing guiltily. “I’m really sorry, it’s just…”

“Duty calls,” JJ finished, picking up her bag again. “I’ll see you soon, Morgan. Mrs. Morgan, always a pleasure.” he elderly woman stood up and gave them both pillowy hugs goodbye, her strong arms wrapping tightly around the two women. 

“Good to see you again, Mrs. Morgan.” Emily said, standing at the door. “Take care of yourself, both of you. I don’t want to have to fly all the way back again, and you know I will.”

“I promise to behave.” Morgan smiled. Although he was sad to see her go, the more people in his hospital room, the more pressure he felt to get better. As the two ladies finally left, he fumbled to find the remote that lowered his bed.

“Feeling sleepy again, hon?” Fran asked gently, finding the device in the folds of his sheets. 

“Something like that,” he mumbled. He watched the ceiling appear in his line of sight as the whirring bed slowly reclined him.

“It was nice of Emily to fly all the way here to see you, don’t you think?” Fran took her son’s hand and rubbed it with her smooth, dry fingers, feeling his unrelenting muscles and tendons in sharp definition. 

Instead of following her lead, Morgan tried a different topic. “How’s Sarah doing?”

“Oh, she’s doing as best she can. Desiree is helping her…make arrangements for Eli. And Penelope has been so helpful, though she’s working now.” Fran’s face creased sadly, and the small change did not escape Morgan’s notice.

“Mama, are you okay?” She had been by his bed almost every second, except when she was comforting Sarah or harassing doctors and nurses. 

“Just thinking about you as a young man, actually. When you were Eli’s age…I couldn’t tear you away from the football field. You were a lot like him you know…or he was a lot like you.”

“I was a troublemaker. Eli’s been a straight arrow since he was a kid.”

“He was a lot like you.” She restated firmly. “I can’t imagine…Losing your father was bad enough, and then every time I get a call from Aaron, or JJ, I…My heart jumps into my throat, and until I hear you’re okay I can’t breathe.” Her tone had an unmistakable sense of the remembered panic coupled with heartbreak, and she laid her head on Derek’s shoulder as tears dripped down her cheeks. “I can’t imagine having to make those arrangements for you.”


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19  
Two days later, the team was gathered around a round table in a nearby police precinct, desperately analyzing each aspect of the case in front of them to find a connection. JJ and Blake were talking quietly over half-empty cups of coffee, Reid was staring an array of color-coded maps, and Rossi was reading through a case report and eavesdropping on Hotch’s heated conversation with the police chief in the room next door. Another body had been found after another six-day waiting period, and another symbol had been carved into his back. The police chief had balked and almost went public with the information, and Hotch was trying to get him back in line, explaining that if they went public, the killer might be incensed to strike again instead of waiting another six days.

Hotch came back into the room, Chief Erickson in tow, and looked around for an update. “Where are we at?”

JJ handed him a case file and pulled out a small notebook. “Blake and I talked to the first victim, Abby Ryles’ parents first, they said they didn’t think that she had any enemies, but they didn’t talk all that often.”

“It appears that she wasn’t particularly social, but she did have a couple of close friends from work and from her church. We went in to talk to is priest, and showed him the symbols, but he couldn’t tell us anything.” Blake said, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “We’re waiting to hear back from Sebing’s father, his mother died in an accident two years ago.”

“Reid, what have you got on our latest victim?” Hotch picked up a folder on the table, looking at a picture of a middle-aged man.

“Anton Oswara, 42, immigrated from Algeria in 2009 when his company transferred him to their offices in DC. He’s middle-class, lives alone, but is active in the community. He volunteers with a local youth soccer league and ran for city council last year, although he withdrew before the election.”

“Any reason why?” JJ asked, scanning through yet another manila file. 

“Nothing specific, but his religious beliefs came under a pretty intense microscope while he was running.” Reid handed Hotch a police report and a set of pictures showing an egged car. “A radical Christian group was blamed for most of the instances, although they denied.”

“And what was his affiliation?” Rossi broke into the conversation, suddenly rifling through folders on the table. He found one that he was looking for, then a second, and opened them side-by-side.

“He was Unitarian, why?” Bewilderment was evident in the young man’s voice, and the rest of the team watched curiously as Rossi took the file that Reid was holding, formulating a theory in his mind. 

“Oswara was Unitarian, Ryles was a dedicated Catholic…and it looks like after Sebing lost his mother, he joined a Lutheran church. Here, see? He serves on the church council.” 

“You think our unsub has something against Christianity?” The police chief clarified. “Then what about the symbols?”

“I don’t think it’s specific to Christianity…” Rossi posited, leaning back in his chair to think. “Unitarians aren’t necessarily Christian. I think our unsub is targeting religion as a whole. Christianity just happens to be the most common religion in the area. It could be that he has been harmed in some way through religious actions, or simply that he is agnostic or atheist and he decided to follow through in his beliefs.”

“Alright, that’s a good start. Dave, Reid, Blake, keep working on it. JJ, with me. We need to talk to Oswara’s church. Chief, can you alert your force to be aware of the increased risk around churches or temples?” The chief was already on his cell phone, but nodded once and left the room. Rossi nodded as well, then glanced at his own cell phone which was buzzing on his belt.

“It’s Morgan!” He told the group, putting the phone on speaker. “Morgan, are you alright? What do you need?”

“I’m fine. I was just checking up on the case. How’s it going?” His voice was reserved, but curious.

“Morgan, you need to be resting. We’re doing fine,” Hotch responded. “Where’s Garcia?”

“Out getting coffee. And I’m fine, Hotch. I called to say that they’re releasing me tomorrow. I know I’m not going into the field anytime soon, but if you need me to do anything, I’ll be available.” 

“Morgan, you’re off-duty for the next two weeks, at the very least,” Hotch said, putting Rossi’s phone to his ear. Rossi shook his head, a thin, knowing grin sliding across his face. As Hotch stepped out of the room to argue with Morgan, he spoke up.

“Well, we all knew Morgan wouldn’t last that long.” He smiled, looking at his watch. “Although I thought he might have waited until he left the hospital.”

Reid looked up at the group, hesitating a moment before sharing the same fears he had shared with Hotch. “Do you all think Morgan has been acting strange since he woke up?”

Alex and Rossi looked at Reid like he was the strange one, but JJ nodded thoughtfully. “I suppose he does act a little different than I expected. But it’s not something we can really predict, is it? Morgan just lost a good friend and was injured in the trauma. He probably just needs some time to let things get back to normal.”

Reid didn’t take the bait, pushing ahead in his thoughts. “That’s exactly my point.” His brows twisted, revealing the deep analysis he had been sculpting in his head. “Morgan is already acting like everything is back to normal. He’s ready to move on and come back to work.”

JJ stopped him with a soft hand on his shoulder. “Reid, you know what today is, right?”

Reid checked his watch, looking at JJ confusedly. “It’s Tuesday, is it not?”

She sat down heavily in the chair next to him. “It’s the day of Eli’s funeral,” she said sadly, leaning back. At the mention of his name, all of the faces in the room drooped.

“And Helmsley’s for that matter,” Rossi added. “Just another coincidence.”

“Is someone with Morgan right now?” Blake asked.

“Fran stayed with him while Desiree took Sarah home, and Garcia’s still at the hospital, probably working out of his room if I know her…” JJ answered, trying to turn the conversation to a light topic.

Reid’s mouth opened insistently. “But there is something other than that…I told you, he’s already moved on. He doesn’t even want to think about what happened!”

JJ just shook her head morosely, not opening up to further discussion. “How many people actually want to think about their traumas? You just need to give it some time, Reid, and be there for him when he needs you. That’s all we can do.”

Hotch chose that moment to re-enter the room, handing Rossi his phone back and taking in the tension in the air. “What’s going on?” He asked cautiously.

“I was just telling them what I had been telling you—“ Reid started to say.

“We’re good here, Hotch,” Rossi interrupted. “Just getting ready to head out.” Reid shot him a mutinous look, but something in the older man’s eyes convinced him to let it go. 

“Alright then.” Hotch said. “JJ, are you ready to go?” She nodded, gathering up the appropriate files and grabbing her jacket. With one compassionate glance at Reid, she exited the room, following Hotch out to the field and away from her problems.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

Dr. Scott knocked lightly on the threshold of Morgan’s room, poking his head in on Fran and Morgan, who were watching the morning news. “Knock knock!” He said cheerfully, going for the charts that hung at the end of the bed. 

“Good morning, doctor.” Fran said politely. “I’ll go get some coffee and stay out of your way.”

“Actually, Mrs. Morgan, I think you should stay for this bit. Derek, I just wanted to let you know that your stats are looking good, I don’t see any new tears, and overall you have been healing nicely.”

“So…what does that mean?” Morgan asked. “Can I go home now?”'

“First things first.” Dr. Scott responded, setting the chart down again. “I heard you stood for a while yesterday. How about a short walk to prove that you’re up to it?”

“Challenge accepted.” Morgan smiled, pushing the sheets back so he could get up. Fran leaned in to help, but he brushed her away. “Ma, I got this.” She and the doctor stood back, watching his progress with satisfied smirks. “Do you think I could get a pair of sweats or scrubs?” Morgan asked, sitting up on the bed. “I know my butt looks good, but I’m in no condition to fight off the ladies.”

Fran shook her head disapprovingly, but dug around in a worn green duffel bag at the foot of his bed. “JJ brought you a couple of sets of clothes while you were still…asleep.”

“Good of her.” Morgan commented, pulling on the old gray sweats from his time with CPD. The pilled fabric felt marvelous against his legs after almost a week of just plain sheets and hospital gowns, and he relished the small indicator of at least a little return to normalcy. An IV still fed into his hand, so he left the thin patterned hospital gown on for the time being. Setting a hand on the bed to either side of his body, he hoisted himself into a standing position, wincing silently only once. 

“I’m thinking down the corridor and back, but if you’re feeling up to it you can make a lap of the floor.” Dr. Scott said, holding the door fully open as Morgan and Fran stepped through. “Take it slow. How are you doing?”

“Pretty steady. It just feels good to be upright again,” Morgan said. His knees felt like jelly, and his feet shuffled lazily, even at his turtle-like speed. He inhaled deeply, and felt a resistant pull in his liver, but not any pain. His entire torso seemed to be filled with packing peanuts; the numbness filled his middle entirely, although he could feel his extremities just fine. “I’m stiff, but that’s it.”

“No pain?” Fran asked, settling a hand on his lower back reassuringly.

“Here and there, but not too much.” Each step seemed to be getting harder as he neared the end of the corridor, but Morgan’s spirit had healed in the past couple of days too, and there was no way that he would give up this time. “I’m making the loop, if that’s alright with you doctor.” 

“No reason not to,” Dr. Scott said. His gray eyes were watching Morgan sharply, taking in every movement that he took and analyzing it for signs of weakness. Although the muscles still bulged from years of intense regimens, Morgan’s gait was far from strong; the combined hindrance of bed rest and recent surgery were taking their toll.

The hallway looped around, and with his room in sight, Morgan found a new strength. As much as his body was protesting, going back to the confines of the bed seemed like a prison sentence. “Doc? Do you mind if I just stay in the chair for a while?”

“Sorry Derek. The PT’s coming in to work on your muscles and set up a schedule before you leave tomorrow, and then you need to take a couple last tests to make sure everything is healed enough.” Seeing the disappointed look on Morgan’s face, Dr. Scott put the chart away after scribbling some notes and crossed his arms. “If the PT agrees, you can take another lap tonight.”

“We’ll see.” Fran corrected. “Just because Derek thinks he’s ready doesn’t mean he is.” 

“A wise woman.” Dr. Scott said, checking his watch. “I trust she’ll keep you in line until I see you again?”

“You don’t need to tell me twice,” Fran said. Even after being retired for many years, Fran’s energy had not faded a bit, nor did her steely gaze that kept her three children perfectly in line. But it was clear that her children were her first love, and she would do anything to protect them.

“I’ll send the physical therapist your way.” Dr. Scott said, exiting the room purposefully. As his footsteps faded down the corridor, Derek stared out the window to the right of his bed. His gaze was lost, his mind travelling outside the walls of the hospital room. Fran only had to say his name once to break him out of his reverie, but she could tell that he wasn’t fully back to himself, no matter what the physical therapist decided.

“What are you worried about?” She asked deliberately.

“I’m not worried.” He protested. His voice was laced with practiced nonchalance, but it could not fool his mother, the one person in the world who knew Morgan better than anyone else in the world. But she also knew enough not to push him, because if there was one thing Morgan was good at, it was resisting. 

When he finally met her soft eyes, she could see his emotions broiling deep inside. “I missed Eli’s funeral,” He tried again. It was a bit more honest, but not quite what was bothering him, so Fran grabbed his hand encouragingly. The simple motion, something she had done thousands of time, finally caused Morgan to break down. “Eli’s dead. He’s dead, and I’m still here. I’m getting out of the hospital tomorrow, to go back to my normal life…but I can’t. Not when…I know. I wish I could blame someone, but I can’t. There’s no one to blame.”

“Except yourself?” Fran asked softly.

“No. I’m not even blaming myself. It was the kid’s fault, Helmsley. But someone did that to Helmsley, too.” Morgan’s frustration bordered on abject anger as he clenched and unclenched his fists. “His mother, or his absent father, or a friend, or someone else…Someone needs to pay for this…I just don’t know who.” His fury rolled off him in waves, but before Fran could calm him down, they were interrupted by a knock on the door. A middle-aged woman poked her head in the door. 

“Mr. Morgan?” She asked politely. Morgan nodded mutely, and she stepped into the room. “I’m Liza Sheridan, your physical therapist. Is this a good time?”

“Of course, come on in,” Derek said, rubbing his eyes. “Call me Derek. And this is my mother.”

“Good to meet you, ma’am.” She said courteously. “And you can both call me Liza. We’ll be seeing a lot of each other over the next couple of months.” She wasn’t like normal doctors; Morgan could already tell her upbeat personality would get on his nerves.

“Months? Really?” Morgan asked. “Is it going to take that long?”

“We can’t tell yet,” she responded optimistically. “But nothing that really matters can be fixed in a few days.”


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

Finally, the next day, Morgan’s bags were packed and he was being wheeled to the car by an orderly, his mother carrying a small duffel at his side. His mood had ranged from bad to worse since the physical therapist’s visit, like he had finally succumbed to the depression that had been kept at bay for days by his caring visitors, but now hit him in full force as he rejoined the real world. Garcia was waiting at the exit in front of the big black SUV, grinning from ear to ear. She had worn her favorite sunset-like sweater for the occasion, and she held a small box in her hands, bobbing up and down on her toes as she saw Morgan walk out.

“There’s my superman.” Her voice was sweet and careful, waiting for him to set the mood of the ride. 

“Hello beautiful.” The words were right, but his smirk lacked the cheeky Morgan charm from before the explosion. Garcia smiled anyways and presented him with the gift, setting it carefully in his lap.

“Something to keep you entertained for the next month.” She took the bag from Fran, giving the woman a quick hug, and opened the door. The orderly helped Morgan to stand, and he walked to the car in short, deliberate steps, so completely unlike the long, strident pace of just days before. Everything about Morgan seemed to have changed: his muscles appeared almost humorously large in comparison to his now lean physique the dark fuzz covering his head was due to lack of motivation rather than style, and his normally snappy wardrobe was reduced to his old CPD sweats.

“Thanks Garcia,” he grunted as he climbed into the car. “What is it?”

“Open it, you silly goose!” She teased weakly. Morgan clicked his seatbelt into place in the back seat and Fran slid into the passenger side, thanking the orderly as she did. Morgan ripped the paper off unceremoniously, tossing it to the floor as he read the side of boxed set of DVDs.

“Baseball…” He said slowly, as if not comprehending the word.

“It’s a Ken Burns documentary series about the history of baseball. It’s really good. Or so the ratings say, I couldn’t get into it myself.” She looked worried for a second, but regained her sunny smile as she turned the key in the ignition. “We’ll be home in no time.”

“Thank you for driving, Penelope.” Garcia and Fran, although friendly before, were now even closer, almost family. Penelope’s constant presence at Morgan’s bedside had grown from annoying to endearing for Fran, who decided to bring Garcia into her confidence on more than one occasion when Morgan was resting. 

“And thanks for the movies.” Morgan added from the backseat.

“It’s my pleasure. Anything for my main man.” He didn’t respond again, and Garcia chattered happily with Fran in the front seat as some unfamiliar jazz musician played in the background. The ride was, as promised, blissfully short, and soon they were pulling up in front of Morgan’s house. The familiar façade caused a sigh of relief to slip from Morgan’s lips, and Garcia looked into the rearview mirror to see Morgan close his eyes happily. “Home Sweet Home,” she commented, turning off the car.

They got his bags inside and got Morgan settled on the couch with pasta and a glass of water in hand. He snapped the TV on and threw the remote onto the couch next to him, digging into the noodles that his mom had made. Garcia had left, and had left Morgan and Fran cookies as well. “I think this is the best spaghetti I have ever tasted,” he said, licking his lips. 

“Or maybe your senses have been dulled by the hospital food.” Fran said teasingly, taking a forkful of her own. “Nope. You’re right. This is just good.” She sat back down in the recliner and sank into the plush mahogany-colored fabric, keeping her eyes on her youngest child.

“What is it, mama?” Morgan asked, setting his fork down. “Are you tired? You should rest.”

“We both should rest, baby. But that’s not it.” Fran’s wrinkles creased even deeper as she rubbed her eyes, and Morgan saw her age showing. “I’m just worried about you. You’ve always been the man of the family, and even when you were a kid you never let anyone take care of you, even me.”

“I’m different now, mom, I’ve changed. And I am a man now, not just some scared teenager playing pretend. I can take care of myself, and I can ask for help.” Fran raised her eyebrows suspiciously, and Morgan amended her statement. “I can accept help when it’s forced on me.”

“Then I’ll trust Garcia and the team to take care of you.”

“What do you mean? Are you leaving?” His spaghetti forgotten, Morgan fumbled for the remote and turned off the TV. “You can stay in my room, and I’ll be in the guest room. I thought we agreed on that.”

“Derek, I have to work. Much as I’d like to, I can’t retire just yet.” She patted his blanketed leg. “Eat. You’re well enough to take care of yourself.” 

He took another bite of spaghetti and thought about his mother’s words. Fran has expected him to protest immediately, to ask her to stay, but instead, he seemed to be coming to terms with it. “You’re right. I’ll be fine on my own. I’m sorry that you’ve had to miss so much work.” He leaned back contemplatively, taking another bite of his pasta and dribbling some sauce on his shirt. “I swear, I’ll be fine.”

“Don’t swear,” Fran replied, grabbing a napkin. She wiped the red splotch off his shirt, smiling gently as she remembered the same motions from years before. She reminded herself that the Derek in front of her was a man, not a boy, and that his days of running to her when he was hurt were gone. Even so, a small part of her was hurt by the quick acceptance of her absence. “I’m sure you want some time alone now that you’re finally home. I’ll go clean up the kitchen.”

“Mama, wait.” He grabbed her sleeve as she walked by, and Fran sighed in relief that she was still needed, even in that infinitesimal moment. “Just relax. I’ll put a movie in or something. If you have to go back home tomorrow, don’t work tonight. Here.” He swung his legs off the couch, grimacing at the pull in his abs, and patted the empty cushion, “Sit”. The command was all it took, and she nestled in close to him, tucking the blanket over her knees as Morgan looked through the channels again, finally landing on a hallmark-esque movie that didn’t particularly appeal to him, but was one of his mom’s favorites.

I still remember the first time I watched this movie.” Fran laughed gently. “You sprinted into the room when you heard me and your sisters sobbing because you were worried that something bad had happened.”

“And something had.” He reminded her teasingly. “What’s-his-name died. Joseph? Joey?”

“Jonah. Jonah dies. Thank you for the reminder.” She chuckled, watching the opening credits roll. “Now shush. Let’s just watch a movie together. Close your eyes if you feel sleepy, and try to get some rest.”

“Should be any time now, just you wait.” He settled back into the cushions, letting his eyes droop closed. As he quickly settled into a deep, exhausted sleep, the last thing he felt was his mother’s hand resting on his shoulder, protecting him while he slept.


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

“Morgan?” He turned to look, not willing to believe the voice that he heard. 

“Eli?” The young man was there in front of him, still wearing the red sweatshirt and shiny new shoes. “Eli, what are you doing here?” Suddenly, his surroundings began to materialize. He was on the street again, sitting on the bench underneath the striped awning. “What’s going on?”

A confused smile spread across Eli’s face. “…Right.” he continued. “Now, are we going inside, or are you gonna stay out here the whole time?” He turned to go in the door, and Morgan felt a sick feeling grow in his stomach. 

“No!” He said, grabbing for the sleeve of the sweatshirt. “Eli, it’s not safe! Eli!” But he had already entered the diner; Morgan could hear the bells chiming. He got up to follow, but felt his body glued to the bench. He strained against the forces, trying fruitlessly to lift his feet. Another tinkle of bells caught Morgan’s attention, and all color left his face as he saw Helmsley walking into the store. A flash of silver glinted off the warm, white afternoon sun, and Morgan felt his heart drop even further as he recognized the gun. He knew what was happening, could predict what happened next.

The babble of voices in the diner escalated quickly, and as Morgan heard the first shot go off, his finally fought his way to his feet and ran into the diner. He knew that the girl was dead, but there was still time to save the second woman, and to save Eli. But as he opened the door, his heart fell for a third time. Eli’s body was slumped against the wall, coated in red spackle. “Eli…”Morgan whispered, slowly walking over to the boy. He ignored the commotion still going on behind him and knelt directly in the pooling blood, warm as I soaked through his jeans. “No.”

Another gunshot went off behind him, and Morgan was suddenly blinded by rage. He jumped up and towered over the skinny, nervous teen. Morgan saw Flak’s finger on the trigger, pulling again and again as shots boomed through the room. He reached for the gun, but it vanished just he grabbed at it. “No!” He growled, reaching for it again where it had reappeared. Shots still pattered through the room, pockmarking every wall and every ear drum in the diner. “NO!” He yelled again. He was reaching blindly now, groping the thin air in front of him with fervent attempts to find the gun and stop the carnage. “You killed Eli!” His agonized voice reverberated off the walls, echoing loudly. “You killed him! Eli! ELI!”

“Derek!” Eli’s voice was faint, but cut through the chaos in Morgan’s head to hit him straight in the heart. “Derek!”

\- - -

“Derek!” The one thing that cut through Morgan’s nightmare was Fran’s equally panicked voice as she shook Morgan by the shoulders to wake him. Her strong, wizened hands grasped his broad shoulders with such a force that Morgan woke up immediately, his eyes wide frightened. “Shh,” she hushed him, “It’s okay. It was just a nightmare. You’re okay.”

Morgan relaxed, rubbing a hand over his tender abdomen. He exhaled slowly and wiped beads of sweat off his forehead as he noticed the sheets and his clothes were soaked through with sweat. “I saw it. I saw him die again.”

Tears grew in Fran’s eyes, and she caressed his cheek. “I’m so sorry, Derek.”

Morgan kept mumbling to himself, barely coherent enough for Fran to understand. “I thought I was okay. I thought these were done.” He had replayed the scene over in his dreams in the hospital, but it had stopped after the first three nights. “I don’t want to see it again…I can’t.” He stood up off the couch and gingerly stretched before heading to the kitchen. 

Fran followed him in and watched him open his pill bottles, shaking out the dosages onto the counter. She handed him a glass of water and he swallowed all of the capsules in one gulp. “Maybe I should stay,” she said cautiously. “I can take a couple more days.”

“No, I’m fine.” Morgan reached for the half-empty jug of milk in the fridge, sniffed it, and poured it down the drain. “Dreams don’t hurt anyone.” 

“They do if you can’t sleep.” The two worked in easy grace in the kitchen, Fran cracking eggs into a skillet as Morgan poured two mugs of coffee. The eggs sizzled as they hit the hot pan, and Fran laid strips of bacon in alongside them.

“But I am sleeping,” Morgan protested. “I’m already feeling better. I’ll stay home, just relax, and I’ll be fine. I promise.” He reached up to grab two plates from the cupboard, and could resist a sharp breath as the pain flared for a moment. 

“Fine. Right.” Fran teased admonishingly. The eggs were done, and she slid them onto the waiting plates, taking the pan off the burner and following Derek to the table. Just as they sat down, the doorbell rang. 

“I’ll get it.” Morgan said, standing up. The meds were kicking in again, and the pain had been diluted to a dull throbbing. Peering through the peephole, Morgan smiled as he saw who it was. He undid the chain and opened the door wide before getting pelted in the things by a small blonde bullet names Henry. “Oof. Thanks, buddy! “

“Henry, remember what I said!” JJ chided. “Morgan’s not feeling well.” She stepped through the door, a paper bag in hand. “I thought I might stop by to see if you need anything, and Henry wanted to come, and then we saw the bagel store...I brought enough for everyone, but it smells like someone else made breakfast. Hello Fran!” JJ called into the kitchen.

“Hello JJ!” She responded, coming to stand behind Morgan. “And you must be Henry.” The boy peeked shyly around Morgan’s legs, his smile growing wider. “I’m Derek’s mommy, Fran. It’s nice to meet you.”

“You too.” Henry said politely. “Derek, can we have bagels? Momma got me one with chocolate chips.” They all chuckled, heading back to the kitchen table. Morgan closed the door and shook his head at JJ, but they were both smiling. Henry opened the bag of bagels and dug his out, happily chowing down as Fran poured two more glasses of juice. “Aren’t you guys still on a case?”

“I took a day off to come see you and spend some time with my boys. They’re wrapping it up now, they have out unsub under surveillance and are just waiting for him to make the move.”

“Actually glad I’m not there.” Morgan said, causing JJ to snort. Patience on stakeouts were not known to be one of Morgan’s strong suits. 

“JJ, I’m glad you came. I was planning on leaving today, and I want to make sure Derek’s being taken care of.” Her tone was sharp, but caring, and JJ smiled in recognition of the motherly affection. “You have my word, Fran, he will not starve.”

“Thank you, but that’s not exactly what I’m worried about.”

“Mom—“ Derek tried to interrupt.

“Derek is having nightmares,” She said matter-of-factly. The news didn’t shock JJ, but she didn’t expect it to be thrown out into the open. “I’d like you to know that so you can pester him about it. Lovingly, of course.”

“Derek has nightmares?” Henry questioned, his eyes round and innocent. JJ looked to Morgan for the right response, and he cleared his throat.

“Of course, Henry. Everyone has nightmares. But your mommy is always there for you when you’re scared, right?” Henry nodded solemnly. “Is it okay if I share your mommy for a while? Can I call her if I’m scared.?” JJ looked sideways at Morgan, trying to discern his true meaning. Was he actually asking for her help?

“Of course.” Henry declared. “I have a lot of happy dreams now, so don’t worry about me.” He leaned in conspiratorially and stage-whispered in Morgan’s ear, “If you ask nicely she makes hot chocolate.”

JJ covered her smile as best she could, and Morgan winked back at Henry’s secret. As Henry turned back to his bagel, Morgan finally met JJ’s eyes and cocked his head, as if to ask permission from her. She nodded quickly, mouthing “Anything you need.” Fran, finally satisfied, tucked into her eggs, and Morgan and JJ did as well, watching Henry’s blissful, innocent face as the last bites of the lauded chocolate chip bagel made their way into his stomach. 

But Morgan’s heart was still heavy from the dream he had been woken from. Eli’s face was still embossed on his eyelids, the sound of gunshots still echoed in the back of his head. And the gun…the steely, compact piece of weaponry that took the lives of five people. Morgan had stopped blaming the boy behind the weapon a while ago, but the image kept coming back to him. His mind was obsessed with the smooth, round barrel, the slight trigger, and the black textured grip; he could not let it go. It was the gun, he decided, that caused the shooting. The gun, not the boy behind it. The gun was the problem. And it was a problem he could get to the bottom of.


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23  
Morgan was sitting in bed, working on his laptop as the TV showed a muted baseball game in the background. He was in pajama pants and a worn-out t-shirt that had lost its sleeves to a ragged scissor job some years before. Fran had left the day before, leaving her son with more home-cooked meals and promises that she would call to check in every day. Morgan had slept through the night without bad dreams and woke up later than normal, accepting the post-wake-up laziness instead of forcing himself out of bed.

His stomach had not bothered him for breakfast yet, so he turned on ESPN and got his laptop out to begin a search into the weapon that had caused so much tragedy. He used the FBI channels to begin a basic search of the gun’s serial number and registry, but had come up mostly empty. He took a break from typing to pull up his shirt and look at the distasteful bandage plastered to his stomach, prodding it and wincing at the predictable pain.

He put his shirt back down and lifted the sheet to see his leg. The fracture in his leg hadn’t even warranted a cast, just an unobtrusive splint, and had done most of the healing while he was bedridden. He wasn’t even limping on it, and what pain he had was covered by the dosages of drugs. His fingers rubbed over various scrapes and bruises, trying to ascertain which would become scars in his already varied collection and which would fade away with time. 

Turning back to the glowing laptop screen, Morgan re-read the information that he had pulled up, a police report from Helmsley’s juvie record before he moved to DC. When he was 13, Flak and some friends had boosted a car to take joyriding, and Flak took the fall, spending six months in a juvenile penitentiary. He opened the other boys’ records and got lost in pages and pages of bleak futures, histories that started in misdemeanors and ended in felonies. 

Morgan shifted his focus to Helmsley’s friends in DC, looking through newer police reports. Now and again, he would find a boy that Flak knew that ended up in college, or working a steady job, but more often than not they would end in jail, or in death. His printer was working overtime as the piles of paper on his bed were arranged and then rearranged in the hopes of finding some pattern, some tell-tale sign that would reveal the truth. 

Sometime around noon, he moved his search downstairs to the dining room table to have more room and easy access to the fridge. He was munching on some re-heated pasta and reading through background on Flak’s mother when the doorbell rang, interrupting his thoughts. Opening the door, Morgan found Reid on the other side, impatiently checking his watch. “Hey Reid, what’s going on?”

Reid narrowed his eyes, taking in Morgan’s bedraggled appearance and the Tupperware bowl of spaghetti on the table. “You forgot about the physical therapy appointment, didn’t you?”

The look on Morgan’s face was not one that Reid saw often, a mix of embarrassment and uncertainty. “I can be ready in five minutes. Come in, I’ll be right down.” Reid watched Morgan ascend the stairs slowly and sat down at the table, going through the stacks of paper that had caught his eye when he walked in. He couldn’t make sense of the pages upon pages at first, but he quickly picked up on the patterns as he read through the data. Each sentence increased the feelings of dread in his stomach; he could see what Morgan was looking for: someone to blame.

“Want to explain what you’re doing?” Morgan’s accusatory voice cut through Reid’s concentration, making him look up with wary eyes. 

“Do you want to explain what you’re doing?” Reid fired back. 

“I thought it would be obvious after you went through my work. I’m finding out how Flak got the gun that he used to shoot me…and kill Eli.” 

“You shouldn’t be doing this. You should be resting.” 

“You can’t tell me what to do, Reid.” Morgan gathered the papers into a pile and closed his laptop, challenging Reid to keep going. Reid pressed his lips into a thin line, clearly not happy with the direction this had taken. 

“Let’s just go to PT. You have an appointment.”

“Fine.” Morgan said, shrugging into a FBI sweatshirt. He locked the door behind them, and suppressed a shiver at the chilly air. “It got cold. Why didn’t you warn me, pretty boy?”

Reid snorted, but said nothing. He started the engine and turned the heat on, a concession to the fact that Morgan was still injured and needed to be looked after. “Are you still taking your meds?” Reid asked finally.

“Yes. I wouldn’t be standing up if I wasn’t.”

“Good.” Silence filled the space between them in the car.

“How’s the case?” Morgan asked politely. 

Reid was resolutely staring out the front window at a stoplight, waiting for it to turn green. “We’ve got the unsub in custody, Hotch and Blake are taking his statement. He wanted a plea bargain, but obviously the state attorney’s office said no.”

“But there’s good evidence?”

“Plenty. We matched ballistics to the gun he had, and we were shadowing him when he attacked a young girl and her mother as she walked out of a Mosque. They were in the hospital overnight, but they’re out now.”

“How many victims were there? Three?”

“Four by the time we caught him, they would have been five and six.” 

“You said you had ballistics? I thought he stabbed them.” Morgan said, testing Reid’s patience. 

Reid saw where Morgan was leading him, but had calmed enough to talk. “Out unsub carved symbols into their back postmortem. Turns out they were crude representations of some convoluted form of an ancient Colombian religion. But our unsub shot his victims first to incapacitate them. It didn’t make much sense until we realized that he was exceptionally weakened in some way. Garcia found him by cross-referencing hospital records with travel to Colombia.” He paused a moment, but continued. “Why are you so concerned about the gun?

“Just curious about the case, Reid.”

“You know which gun I’m talking about, Morgan. You know that there are thousands of illegal firearm that exchange hands every year, right? Why do you think you can change that? Why now?” Reid knew perfectly well that his words were defeatist and harsh but he thought it might be what Morgan needed to hear.

“Why? My friend is dead. I think that’s enough of a reason. And as for the timing of it all…well, there’s nothing better for me to do. I’m stuck at home, I might as well be productive.”

“You shouldn’t be doing this.” Reid mumbled.

“I shouldn’t be doing it? Reid, you can’t tell me what to do.” The atmosphere in the car had become absolutely frigid.

“I’ll call Hotch.” The desperate words made Reid feel like a small child again, threatening to tattle to the teacher. 

“Hotch can’t tell me what to do.” Morgan said through gritted teeth. “I’ll do what need to be done.”

Reid pulled the car up short, throwing them both forward. “We’re here. Do you want me to help you in? Otherwise I’ll wait in the car.”

“Do what you want.” Morgan said shortly. He was already halfway out of the car when he finished with a stinging barb. “I’ll be inside with someone who actually wants to help me.”

An hour later, Reid was finishing up a book on the philosophy of platonic mathematics when Morgan knocked on the window of the SUV. Reid unlocked the doors and Morgan gingerly climbed in, wincing. “I take it she put you through the ringer?” Reid asked a bit too cheerfully. Morgan merely grunted in return. “Do you want to watch a movie tonight? I picked up a 1972 copy of Slaughterhouse 5 at the store the other day. We can wing by my place and get it.”

“Nah, Reid. I’m tired. I just want to go to bed.” Reid looked at Morgan sideways, analyzing his body language. He was turned towards the window, his shoulders braced for confrontation. 

“You mean you want to find the gun without any interruptions from me.” Reid corrected.

“I’m trying to work with you here, Reid, but you’re not making it easy.” He paused, looking into the distance as Reid pulled out of the parking lot. “I’m not going to stop.”

“I know…I won’t try to stop you anymore.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m going to help you Morgan. We’re going to get to the bottom of this.”

“No, you’re not.” The stoniness in Morgan’s eyes could usually make him back down, but his attitude over the last couple of hours gave Reid enough ammunition to attack.

“You need me, Morgan. So yes, I am staying.”

“Why?” The tone was curiosity wrapped in arrogance, layered with a healthy amount of suspicion. His posture relaxed, and he turned to look at Reid, who was studiously avoiding his pointed gaze.

“I don’t trust you to take care of yourself.” Reid said bluntly. “And if it takes me staying with you to force you to get better, that’s what I’ll do.” Morgan looked at him guiltily.  
“Reid, you don’t need to do that. I’ll be fine.”

“I’m not going to let you do this on your own, Morgan. Either I stay, or I call Hotch, and as much as you think he has no control, we both know that he can make you stop.” 

“Alright,” he consented. “We’re starting as soon as we get back.” There was still a hint of reluctance in what he didn’t say, but it was clear that he had no other choices. 

“What do you have so far?”

“Flak lived in Boston up until two years ago, and spent half a year in juvie for boosting a car. There’s some other minor infractions, but nothing really significant. I also looked into the records of anyone else who was associated with him, and got nowhere. No information whatsoever. Then I went to his records in DC, which was about the same. He got busted with some drugs last year, but he’s had a clean sheet since then. I’m trying to find out more about his network, but nothing yet.”

“I can call some people at metro police. Anything else?”

“I’m looking into the mother’s background and trying to find out who Flak’s father is. There’s a name on the birth certificate, but I think it’s fake, because the closest possibility lives in Illinois.”

The pulled into Morgan’s driveway, and he stumbled as he got out of the car, catching himself before he hit the ground. Grimacing in pain, Morgan leaned against the side of the SUV and tried to catch his breath. Reid rushed over to his side, putting a gentle hand on Morgan’s arm, but it was characteristically shaken off. “I’m good,” Morgan gasped, “I’m good.” 

Reid let go, but still warily watched Morgan walk up the three steps into his house. He was limping, something that Reid hadn’t noticed before, and as he climbed the stairs, one hand was clenched to his side. Once they got into the house, Reid gently shoved Morgan onto the couch. “Sit,” he commanded firmly. “What’s for dinner?” 

“Whatever’s left in the fridge.” Morgan responded cheekily. “I think Mom or JJ left some casserole.”

“Found it!” Reid exclaimed, unearthing a large red Tupperware. He examined the contents, sniffed them a few times, then dished out two servings and stuck them in the microwave. “So what do you want me to do?”

“I got background on the waitress that was shot…can you go through that? Carrie, I think her name was…”

“Cassie. Cassie Jollivette,” Reid remembered. He scanned the file quickly, leaning his skinny body against the edge of the counter as he waited for the timer to ding.

“Right, Cassie. I wanted to know how she fits into all this. She didn’t seem like the type that would date a druggie.”

Reid looked up from his papers thoughtfully. “One of the best ways to see relational patterns among young adults is on social networks. Do you want me to call Garcia?”

“No!” Morgan said loudly, panic quickly crossing his face. “Just…leave her out of this. For now.”

“Why don’t you want her to know?” Reid pulled the two plates from the microwave and tucked a few manila folders under his elbow as he walked over to the couch. “What would you like to drink?”

“Water is fine, thanks man.” He took his first bite, and looked at it critically before shrugging and stuffing it in his mouth. “This is my problem. Besides, she has enough on her plate. You’re all chipping in to do my work, you don’t need to do my side project on top pf it. I’ll just look at the web activity tomorrow. If you want to catch up, the records are in rough order on the table.”

“I’ll read them quickly.” Reid assured. “Are you sure you’re not worried about their disapproval? You didn’t even want me to know, and when I threatened to call Hotch you visibly tensed.” 

“Thanks for the profile Reid.” He was being especially pushy tonight, but Morgan was acutely aware of his own flammable temper as well. 

Reid grabbed a stack of files and set them on the ground next to the well-worn reclined in Morgan’s living room, tossing a throw pillow at Morgan as he sat down. “Don’t forget your meds.” He reminded testily.

“But of course, doctor.” Morgan smiled. “I wouldn’t dream of anything else.” He thought he saw a ghost of a smile slide over Reid’s face as they both picked up files, diving into the harrowing content. Each was secretly grateful for the other one, and they settled into the long night of doing what they did best that lay ahead.


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24

Reid woke in the middle of the night, roused by a sound from the couch next to him. They had fallen asleep amidst carefully laid out papers and files, Reid in the recliner and Morgan dwarfing the too-small couch. As Reid yawned and stretched, his back cracked noisily, a result of the contorted position he had been sleeping in. The clock on the TV showed that it was nearly four in the morning, and Reid looked around to find the source of the noise that had woken him.

In the dusky light that preceded a sunrise, Reid’s eyes fell sleepily to Morgan, who was shifting restlessly, almost writhing. An empty pop can from their late night had been knocked to the ground by Morgan’s stray arm, slung off the side of the couch. Reid shrugged and laid back down on the recliner, but paused as he heard a noise come from Morgan’s direction. He held still, and heard it break the silence again: a small gasp, or a whimper of sorts. Morgan’s eyes suddenly clamped shut, his face seemed to collapse as the noises increased. “Morgan!” Reid said in a low voice. Reid grabbed his muscled arm, shaking it gently. “Morgan, wake up!”

“Reid?” The hard voice was weakened with sleep and confusion, but still carried a trace of Morgan’s typical annoyance upon being woken. “What are you doing?”

“You were shaking.” Reid explained simply.

“It was just a dream.” He put a hand over his eyes, the gentle pressure calming the storm inside. 

“You were having a nightmare.” Morgan paused, knowing he had been caught in a lie. “Don’t tell me differently,” Reid said firmly. “I know how it works. You would have woken yourself up soon enough, when it got to be too much.”

“Go back to sleep, pretty boy.” Morgan muttered as he turned to his other side. He pulled a cashmere throw over his shoulder, holding his breath until he heard Reid sink back into the recliner. But Morgan’s nightmare hadn’t quite disappeared from both of their minds. They both lay there silently, Reid wondering if he should say something and Morgan wondering when Reid would fall asleep. 

After half an hour went by, Morgan slid off the couch, stealthily grabbing his cell phone and the afghan so he wouldn’t wake Reid. Wrapping the blanket around his shoulders, he unlocked the front door and walked out into the early morning chill, sitting down on the top step. He stared at the cell phone in his hand, and with a resigned sigh he pulled up the familiar number.

The line rang once, then twice, before JJ picked up. “Morgan? What’s going on, are you alright? It’s four am!”

“I know, JJ. I’m sorry.” His hollow rasp and the early hour made it easy for JJ to put the pieces together. 

“You had a nightmare.” She stated. Morgan heard Will’s voice mumbling in the background, and JJ put her hand over the phone as she stepped outside the bedroom. “Tell me what happened.” It was her gentle voice, the one she used when Henry scraped his knee, or when a victim’s family member was close to tears. It was careful and practiced, but it was also completely genuine, and Morgan felt himself breaking.

“It wasn’t Eli this time,” He confessed. “I saw the other boy. Flak…David. I dreamed that he died.” There was silence on the other end, so he continued. “We…Eli and I…we were sitting there at the table, and he came in, but he wasn’t angry, he wasn’t strung out, he was just normal. And then… it was someone else. Another person came in and shot both of them. Before I could even react. I was just frozen, just…watching it happen. I didn’t do anything, I…I couldn’t do anything.”

“It felt like something was holding you back?” Although she was far away, her voice was soft in his ear, seeming to warm him even in the cool temperature. 

“I just saw them bleeding out. I felt so…useless. I didn’t even go towards the gun, didn’t go towards Eli.” His voice was pained, as though the feelings in the dream were manifesting in his own life as well.

“Are you okay? I can come over right now if you need me to.” She was awake now, a sweet note of concerned worry in her voice. On any given day, she without a doubt was the most maternal BAU member, but her instincts were especially high at the moment, because she knew that only in Morgan’s most vulnerable state did he voluntarily ask for help.

Morgan took a deep breath, and JJ could see him in her head, leaning over and holding his forehead in his hands, the weight of the world on his shoulders. The whole team had seen it many times over the years, when Morgan was at his most defeated. “Reid’s here with me. I was just…Jayje, I was scared.” It was uncommon for Morgan to feel so afraid; he wondered idly if his distress was due more in part to his fear of fear itself.

She sighed, briefly revealing her own exhaustion. “Derek, you don’t need me to tell you that you went through a trauma. It’s completely normal to feel exactly what you were feeling while the event was taking place. It will go away as time goes by.”

“It’s more than that, though…I just…that feeling, that fear, and helplessness…” He took a long, shuddering breath that sent a wave of apprehension through JJ’s mind. “I haven’t felt that since I was a kid, and Buford was…”

“Assaulting you?” She finished carefully.

“Yeah…and it’s been years. It feels like another lifetime, but it has not gone away since.”

Instead of immediately falling back on her victim profiling skills, JJ took a risk. “I can’t tell you that it’s not your fault; you won’t believe me. But Derek, I know, I know…it’s going to get better. There’s nothing you can do except this, what we’re doing right now…keep talking about what you’re feeling. I know it hurts, and I know you’re frustrated…all you can do is wait.”

JJ waited for his response, but all she heard was his deep breathing. She yawned, pulling the phone away from her face so that it wouldn’t pass through the phone line. Morgan stood up on his front porch and began pacing, letting the blanket fall askew on his shoulders. “I was so angry too, JJ. I am so angry.”

“At who?” She sat down on her couch, flicking on a lamp and squinting as the light burned her tired corneas. 

“That’s the thing. I don’t know who I am angry at; I don’t know who I’m scared of. I don’t know why it was Flak that was shot instead of me or Eli. Nothing…nothing makes sense.”

“Nightmares don’t typically make too much sense.” She replied.

“I just can’t figure out exactly where my emotions went wrong.”

“They didn’t!” JJ insisted. “Morgan, what you’re feeling is normal. You’ll get through this. You have before, and you came out stronger.” Her voice grew quiet and thoughtful. “I wouldn’t wish this on anyone. What you’re going through, it’s terrible. Nobody should have to experience the loss of a loved one as young, and as full of promise as Eli was. But we can’t change the past, as much as we want to. All we can do is move forward from it.” Feeling like she had said all she could, JJ picked at another detail she had heard earlier. “By the way, what is Reid doing there?”

“We were just watching a movie.” Morgan said a little too quickly. The quick switch from honesty to deception had almost tripped Morgan up, and he felt guilty for a second for not telling her the truth, especially since he had been the one to call her in the wee hours of the morning. “It was late, and he didn’t want to go home.”

There was a silence on JJ’s end that made him think she was going to call him out, but it didn’t happen. “Does he know about the nightmares?”

“No.”Morgan offered no justification, and JJ didn’t press. She was just grateful that he had come to her instead of holding it all inside. 

“How much sleep did you get before you woke up?”

“Two hours? Maybe a little more, I’m not sure.”

“Morgan, that’s terrible. You’re supposed to be recovering.”

“I’ll go straight back to bed after this, alright? I’ll sleep until noon if it makes you happy.” She could hear his faint laughter on the other end of the line, and she smiled too. 

“I’ll call to check in on you tomorrow, and I think Garcia wanted to stop by after work. We’ll let you know.”

“Thanks Jayje. Good night.”

“Sleep tight,” She replied softly, as if she was putting Henry to bed. She hung up the phone and fell back onto the couch until she was flat on her back. Her bed was all the way upstairs, and the couch was so soft and deep that JJ surrendered to sleep almost instantly. Likewise, Morgan lay down on his own couch, but his mind was so ensnared by the feeling and thoughts that he stayed awake for another hour or two until he finally dozed off as the sunrise broke across the sky.


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter 25

When Morgan opened his eyes the next morning, Reid was still sitting in the chair, but he had changed clothes and now had a bowl of sugary cereal balanced on the arm of the recliner. He finished skimming his current file and set it in the furthest right of three piles on the floor. “What’s that?” Morgan asked, his voice cracking.

“I’m re-reading the files that you went through yesterday. This pile, here,” he indicated the pile at his feet, “These are acquaintances that show no involvement, this middle pile is possibilities, and this one is seven people that were closest to the attack in one way or another. Friends from school, neighbors, and his mother.” 

“Smart.” He groaned as he moved, and Reid stood up quickly. “What’s wrong?”

“My meds wore off. It hurts like a…” His face was contorted for a moment until he fell back down onto the couch, breathing quickly. Reid almost ran back to the couch, splashing some water out of the cup. “Thanks, man.” He shook the pills out of the bottle and greedily swallowed them dry. “Hey, aren’t you late for work?”

“Took a day off,” Reid shrugged. “It didn’t take much effort to convince Hotch after I told him that I was staying with you.”

“You told Hotch? Reid, I asked you not to tell anyone.” He was disappointed, but not angry; much of the previous day’s tension had left with Morgan’s bravado at four A.M. that morning when he had first woken up after the nightmare.

“Technically, no, you never asked me to keep it a secret. It was implied. And I didn’t tell Hotch anything except you were feeling bad, and I wanted to keep you company. He’s worried about you, but he suspects nothing about our little project here.” Reid could not help but feel a touch offended, but he brushed it aside as he walked into the kitchen. “What do want for breakfast?” He called over his shoulder, already opening random cupboards. 

“Coffee!” Morgan shouted back.

“The caffeine might interfere with your meds, you should probably skip it today.” Reid replied, hearing Morgan’s exaggerated groan. “Besides, you need to take your pills with food. So what’ll it be?”

“Fine. Toast, with butter.”

“That’s it?”

“And grab me some yogurt from the fridge. Cherry, I think.”

“That’s more like it.” He popped the bread into the toaster. “One of the people in the suspects pile seemed especially promising. Jeremiah Hodges, 25. One of Flak’s newer contacts, they were brought in together on suspected drug dealing, but the charges didn’t stick. What caught my eye is that one of Hodges’ known associates, Robert Paggard, was just brought in last month for possession of an illegal firearm, but they couldn’t make the charges stick so he’s in the wind.”

“What? Do we have their files?” Morgan got up from the couch, holding his left hand gently over his wound, and rifled through the piles until he found the file. “We have Hodges…Did you say we had Paggard’s too?”

“No, I called over to Metro and talked to one of the detectives I knew from an old case.” Morgan brought the file to the table and began to re-read it as Reid set down the plate of toast and yogurt. “And orange juice?” Morgan prompted distractedly. Reid sighed and got a glass, filled it, and set it down on the table next to Morgan. “We should check if Metro has any leads on where Paggard is getting the guns from.”

“They have nothing. Paggard is barely even on their radar. They picked him up almost by accident. He’s not a big enough part of the illegal weapons scene to warrant their attention.”

“What do you mean? They’re not investigating?” Even though Morgan knew that local PD resources were often stretched thin, it irked him that a man with such potentially deadly power was allowed to live free while the consequences of his actions tore apart the delicate lives of so many others. “Reid, we have to find this guy.” Breakfast long forgotten, Morgan had opened his computer and was typing furiously, trying to pull up more information on Paggard. 

“What are you going to do?” Reid asked quietly. He was facing away from Morgan, gazing out at the street through the kitchen window. His hands were idly rinsing out his cereal bowl, swiping an old sudsy dishrag over and over the already clean surface. “What’s your endgame?”

“We get the evidence, we take him down.” Had his eyes not been buried in the laptop screen, he would not have missed the concerned look Reid threw his way.

“How are you planning on doing that, Derek? You think Metro’s going to do your dirty work? Or are you going to tell Hotch? You know what our team does…you have almost no evidence, Morgan.”

“So we get some.”

“What do you think is the point of all this?” Reid’s voice remained even, practiced patience mingling with frustration. “Just take a step back and look at what you’re doing.”

“I have, Reid. There’s something here, I know it. We have next to nothing right now. But think of what we can do. Nobody has the resources to pursue this except me. Reid…this isn’t my decision. It’s my duty.” 

“Morgan, your only job right now is to get better. This…wild goose chase…it’s not your job. I obviously can’t persuade you not to investigate, but please…” He had stalked over to the table and pulled out a chair, sitting down right next to Morgan. “Please consider what happens if you don’t get this guy. You’re obsessed over this case, and it might not end the way you think.”

“I have everything I need to build a case against this guy. If you help me, we can take him down. For good.” There was such a steely conviction in his tone that Reid was drawn to consider the merits of his arguments. They sat in a stalemate for a while until Reid finally gave in. 

“Like I said yesterday, I’ll stay here until we’re done. If that means working a case, so be it. Just promise me that if it ends, it ends. You’ll be done.”

“I promise,” He answered solemnly. “Now, can we get back to work? I think I found something else while we were talking.”

“Glad to see you’re taking our conversation seriously.” Reid snorted sarcastically.

“I’m on Helmsley’s Facebook page, and there are some messages between Helmsley and Hodges about baseball games, but Helmsley wasn’t in any organized league as far as I can tell, and there are no other kids in the message string.” He could tell Reid was considering it, but did not fully believe in the idea. “It fits the profile.”

“What profile? We don’t even have a working profile.”

“I started one. After I got shot in the diner and I was trying to talk him down. The thing is, he was trying to look a part that he didn’t know how to play. His hand shook when he held the gun, he didn’t have any tattoos or affiliation marks that I could see, he made a new name for himself…he’s trying to walk the walk, and talk the talk. This…coded message, it’s him trying too hard.”

“It’s pretty consistent with what we know. Celia Helmsley told us that she and her husband worked hard to keep their son off the street after his stint in juvie, but it all fell apart again when her husband left two years ago.” Reid walked to his satchel and pulled out a few files, adding them to the mess already on the table.

“Left how?” Morgan asked, picking up the file on Flak’s dad. 

“Died. Car accident downtown. That’s when they moved to Maryland.” They sat in silence for a minute digesting all of the data in front of them. Reid was running statistics in his head, occasionally muttering under his breath as connections formed in front of him. Morgan gave up on asking him to explain his thought process long ago, but every so often he would peek over the genius’ shoulder to get an idea. 

They were interrupted by the phone a couple times, Fran and JJ calling to check on Morgan, but the pair worked through lunch and at three in the afternoon, were close to exhausting their available data. Fortunately, they were also on the cusp of creating comprehensive proof of Paggard’s dealings. “I have all of these illegal weapons, people in Helmsley’s and Hodge’s circle, and some of them I can connect to Paggard, but it’s just not enough to prove a solid connection.”

“Correlation does not equal causality” Reid stated. Morgan rolled his eyes he recognized Reid’s ‘professor voice’ well. Reid seemed to realized this, and he backpedalled to explain. “Just because two things are related does not mean that one thing causes another. A newspaper can say that global warming is caused by say, the growing crime rate, but that’s not necessarily true. Just because they are both increasing does not indicate that one causes the other.” 

“So we need to prove that Paggard is the source.” Morgan clarified, not fully understanding the example.

“Essentially, yes. Morgan, I think…” He hesitated. “It may be time to take this to the team. I agree with you now, there’s something here, but we just don’t have the resources we need.” Expecting argument, Reid had tried to break it to him gently. But to his surprise, Morgan was nodding.

“I want to get this scum.” His lip was curled into a sneer. “But you’re right. We need Garcia on this.” Checking his watch, he stood up to get his coat. “They’re probably still there, we could catch them all if we leave now.”

“Hold up, Morgan. Let’s just sleep on it for now. I know this is important, but really, it can wait until tomorrow. You do realize that the team is just coming off of two weeks of overtime, right? Give them one day.” Again, Reid was relieved when Morgan didn’t argue. 

“Alright pretty boy, it can wait until tomorrow. You should go home too, get some real sleep. Blake’s cooking for me tonight, I think. I’ll ask her to pick me on her way in to the office tomorrow.”

“Don’t you think you should clear it with Hotch first? You’re not even cleared to be in the office.”

“Eh…” Considering it, Morgan shook his head. “It will be harder for him to say no to my face.”


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter 26

Dinner with Blake had been fairly uneventful, but appreciated, and Morgan made sure to thank her as she was leaving. Just as she was out the door, he slid in his request for a ride to the BAU. Although she was hesitant, she eventually agreed, and as the next morning dawned bright and early, she arrived to pick him up. 

Alex pulled up in front of the BAU fifteen minutes later to drop Morgan off at the entrance and drove away, leaving him to make his way in on his own. He wasn’t far into the lobby before he was discovered by Hotch, on his way back from an incredibly early multi-continental conference call. Squaring his shoulders for the diatribe coming his way, Morgan stared his boss down. 

“Morgan, what are you doing here?” Hotch remained perfectly unshakable; the team rarely saw him show outright anger or shock, but the power of his inflection could make even Morgan feel uneasy. 

“I have a case. We have a case.” He corrected himself. “Well, Reid was just helping me.”

“We’ll talk more in my office.” He turned quickly on his heel and strode towards his door on the landing, parading Morgan through the half-full bullpen. Morgan weakly returned the friendly smiles, and exchanged a knowing glance with Reid as he passed the agent’s desk. The slam of his office door behind them was ominous, and the stormy look in Hotch’s eyes even more so. He turned immediately to Morgan, a question ready on his lips. “What case?”

“Listen, I had to do this. I traced the gun that Helmsley used back to a man in DC who has been connected to illegal weapons.” He watched Hotch’s face carefully, but felt minor panic as pity appeared instead of the anger that he expected. “Hotch, I can prove it. I mean, there’s evidence. I just need the team’s help…we can get this scumbag off the streets.”

“We have other cases that need our attention, Derek. We can’t just drop everything to take over a case that’s not even in our jurisdiction.”

“Listen, just give this case a chance. Let me present it to the team, see what they think.”

“Do you have a profile?”

“Nothing formalized. Reid and I wanted to get the team’s input. Anyways, we know exactly who he is. We just need more evidence to make it solid.” He could see Hotch rolling the idea over in his mind, but his silence did not qualify as agreement. “What do I need to say to convince you that this is worth pursuing?”

“I need to know that there’s no bias in the arguments.” They were a lawyer’s words, not an agent’s, and Morgan knew he at least had a chance. “You’re too close to this case, and you’re not even supposed to be working.”

“Then I’ll back off. Reid knows enough to see it through. Have the team look over the evidence, see if Garcia can dig up some more…It won’t even take too much time from our regular consultations, just a day or so. I’ve already done most of the background.” He felt himself becoming a salesperson, making promises that he wouldn’t necessarily keep.

The two men stared at each other, waiting for the other to show some sign of weakness, and finally Hotch sighed in defeat. “I’ll gather the team. Are you ready to present?”

“Yes sir.” They stepped onto the catwalk and looked over the team, who had assembled around Reid’s desk and were whispering furtively. They all looked up as the two men exited, not even trying to conceal their meeting. 

“Conference room. Now.” Hotch announced curtly. They followed him into the room in silence, Morgan bringing up the rear and closing the door. Sitting down in quiet expectation, they watched as Morgan handed out shoddily-compiled files. 

“These past two days I’ve been tracing the origin of Helmsley’s gun,” he started bluntly. “Reid and I searched through his history, his contacts, and his actions leading up to the shooting, and we’ve found a number of illegal weapons that trace back to this man, Robert Paggard.” He massaged the wound on his side, and almost immediately Garcia pulled out a chair in front of him, patting it lightly. He gratefully sat down, but his intensity didn’t fade. “Now, what we…what I need from you is solid evidence that we can use to take Paggard down. He’s not even on Metro PD’s radar, but I think we have the resources to track him down easily.”

“So where do you want us to start?” The question was a sign to the rest of the team, who had been tensely awaiting Hotch’s go-ahead on the project. 

Morgan took the words as a welcome sign too, and relaxed in his chair. “Garcia, work with Reid to nail down the social media connections. We did as much as we can, but…”

“Not a problem” She stated, looking pleased to be the first one in demand.

“JJ, I was thinking you and Rossi could go over to Metro PD and see if they have anything on this guy that they might not necessarily deem important.”

“Of course.” She murmured obligingly. Rossi nodded in the background.

“Hotch and Blake, I was thinking we could work on some older case reports to nail down this guy’s timeline, find out when he began and when he met Helmsley.”

Blake smiled encouragingly, but Hotch merely nodded, his face smooth as stone. Garcia was the first to get up from the table, pulling Reid along by the sleeve of his sweater. “Come on, Einstein. We have work to do.” 

JJ stood and walked over to Morgan, who was still sitting in his chair, staring down at the case report in his hand. She asked him a question, and as he started explaining, Rossi leaned over to converse with Hotch. “Is he okay?” The older man asked.

“I have no idea.” Hotch responded honestly. “Technically, he shouldn’t even be here…”

“But you can’t force him out.” Understanding was evident in Rossi’s voice. 

“I’m starting to think that Reid was right the other day, that Morgan’s not processing the situation at all. He’s diverting himself to other activities because he doesn’t want to face Eli’s death.”

“It wouldn’t surprise me either. Although I am worried that it might be a bit too much for him right now.”

“I’m keeping an eye on him. The first sign of pain or discomfort, and he’s going home. I’ll even drive him there myself.” Rossi nodded thoughtfully, and stood up to leave as the voices on the other side of the table petered out. 

Hotch, Blake and Morgan were the only ones left at the table, and Morgan distributed a stack of files to each. “Helmsley got his gun through a middle man, Jeremiah Hodges. So if that’s how Paggard operates, then all we need to do is find the middle men for these other deals that have gone down.”

“So these are files where the weapons trace didn’t go anywhere?” Blake asked, sipping on a thermos of coffee.

“Right.” He replied. “Look at the perp’s background and where the crime took place. It might be gang-related, but Paggard’s not affiliated with any one gang.” They nodded and quickly got back to work, stopping occasionally to ask questions or point something out. Morgan gradually relaxed into the familiar atmosphere, but every so often he would look up to find Hotch watching him, or catch Alex’s eyes before she got a chance to look away. 

Hotch left at noon to go to a meeting, but they were joined by JJ and Rossi, who had come back from Metro with even more files to be sorted out. By the end of the day, they had built a surprisingly solid case, and Hotch came back into the room with even better news. “Metro gave us the go ahead to arrest Paggard, since there’s a strong possibility that Paggard crossed state lines, which makes it federal.”

“When?” Reid asked eagerly. The whole team had delved into the case with even more fervor than usual, due to the very real personal connection in the room. 

“As soon as we have the evidence.”

“We have it now.” Morgan said, gesturing to the board that had been set up. Arrows linked photos together, showing the network of illegal activities that was connected to Paggard. “We even have evidence that could link Paggard to other crimes that Metro didn’t have any leads on. “

The team watched the showdown of wills silently. “I’ll look it over tonight. If it’s solid, we’ll go for Paggard tomorrow. And by we, I don’t mean you. I don’t want to see you at the BAU again until your medical leave is up. We’ll take it from here.” It was exactly what Morgan wanted to hear and exactly what he didn’t. Instead of arguing though, he simply nodded, already trying to figure out a plan where he could stay close to the team while they took down Paggard. “Go home early.” Hotch said, looking at his watch. “I’ll drive Morgan.”

Morgan pursed his lips, inwardly objecting at the implications of being driven. The rest of the team filed out respectfully, chattering mindlessly about their after-work plans. Garcia touched Morgan’s shoulder gently as she walked past him, letting her fingers lingering in an attempt to provide comfort. As soon as they were gone, Morgan leaned in, almost confrontationally. “You see what needed to be done?”

“Morgan, I knew you had a case from the beginning.” His voice was stern, but respectfully so. “I just wanted to make sure that you knew what you were doing.” 

“What, Hotch, you don’t think I have the experience? I know these aren’t our typical cases, but…”

“You know that’s not what I’m talking about.” Again, Morgan noticed a curious emotion in Hotch’s voice, a mix of trepidation and borderline fear. 

All at once, Morgan understood the reason for Hotch’s hesitations all through the day. “You’re thinking about Elle, aren’t you?” The days of what seemed like ancient history quickly resurfaced in his mind, and Elle’s rash actions had a disturbing familiarity to his own even under his most critical eye. Now, the cause of Hotch and Reid’s discomforts seemed obvious, and Morgan felt the beginnings of uncertainty building in the back of his own mind. 

“How can I not? She came back too early and threw herself into her work, and you saw what that did to her.”

“Hotch, I’m not Elle. I’m not projecting my anger, I’m going after the man that made it possible for Helmsley to go into that diner and do what he did.”

“You don’t think you’re projecting your anger? Morgan, if Paggard hadn’t given Hodges that gun, do you really think that Helmsley would not have found another way?” Morgan was silent. “You’re too close to this case.”

“I can’t back away from this, Hotch. I can’t just let it go.”

“I cannot trust you on this case.”

“Man, you have to believe me. My head is clear. We can bring this man to justice, and I want to be there when we do. What happened to Elle will not happen to me. Elle…she shut herself off from everybody. I’m not going to do that…I trust you guys. What went down is not your fault.”

Hotch looked skeptical. “What do you want from all this, Derek? What happens when Paggard is arrested?”

“When it is finished, I will be too.” 

The team leader nodded thoughtfully and they stood up to leave, but then Hotch rethought what Morgan had said. “When is it going to be finished? As far as I’m concerned, your job ends here.”

“I’m coming on the raid tomorrow. I won’t be participating, obviously, but I need to be there.” Morgan had not even considered that his access would be denied, but now… “I’ll stay in the car the whole time, I swear. Hotch…I need to be there. I need to see this through to the close.”

Hotch rubbed his forehead, considering whether or not he needed to fight this battle at this moment. He thought briefly of Jack, waiting for his dad at home, and decided to give it up. “You’re not to leave the SUV. You can have a headset, but that’s it.” Morgan sighed in relief, but Hotch ignored it. “Grab your things. Jack’s waiting for me at home.”


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter 27  
Morgan spent the entire night lying on his back, staring up on the ceiling. With his healing foot and abdomen, it hurt too much to move, but the anticipation that coursed mercilessly through his veins did not allow him to fall asleep. By the time four AM rolled around, the lights of his alarm clock aggravated him so much that he decided to give up on any sleep and wait for the dawn to come somewhere else. 

He ended up in front of the TV, mindlessly watching one of the DVDs that Garcia had given him without absorbing any of the information. There was an empty pill bottle on the side table, and Morgan groaned as he remembered that he had meant to refill it on the way home from the BAU the day before. He grabbed a bottle of Tylenol from his bathroom medicine cabinet and poured two pills into his hand, and at the last second decided to add a third. 

Finally, the insistent beeping of his alarm sounded faintly through the house. Morgan snapped off the glowing screen and looked out the window to where the rising sun was half-shrouded in clouds. He rolled his neck, feeling the satisfied crack as his body loosened after the still, sleepless night. None of the cereal boxes in his cupboards appealed to him, but he took one out anyways and poured the stale flakes into a bowl, splashing in some milk before he took it up to his bedroom. He ate absently as he dressed before finally giving up on the half-empty bowl that had turned soggy. 

JJ pulled up half an hour later, Henry in the backseat to be dropped off at school. The boys shared a wild, unrestrained grin as Morgan got in, and they sang along to Henry’s favorite CD at the top of their lungs. But as soon as Henry was safely at his destination, JJ pressed the power button on the stereo forcefully. “Honestly, every time he plays it now I feel the urge to crack it in half and throw it out the window.”

Morgan’s smile turned into a yawn that was not stifled quite well enough to escape JJ’s attention. “Did you have another nightmare?”

“I didn’t get to sleep long enough to have a nightmare. But before you get too concerned, I feel fine. I’ll be able to sleep again when the raid is over.”

“I heard that you get to go along. How did you convince Hotch?”

“Aw, Jayje, you know no one can ever say no to me.”

“No, I don’t know that.” She said with a straight face.

“Funny. He seemed pretty okay with it, actually. We both know that if Hotch wants to keep me home, he could.”

“Very true.” JJ agreed. “Want me to drop you off?”

“I can walk.” Morgan replied, a little irked by JJ’s glance down at his walking cast. He had pretty much forgotten about it, and wished everyone else had too. The only thing that was still hurting Morgan was his side…and thanks to the lack of real drugs, it had begun to twinge a bit. Nothing major, just a flash of pain when he stretched or bumped the wound accidentally.

“If you say so.” She heaved her over-filled computer bag out of the back seat and hefted it onto her shoulder, waiting for Morgan to gingerly lift himself out of the car. She wanted to ask him one more time if he was okay, but she bit her tongue. 

“So Garcia found us his home and work addresses, correct?”

“He should be at work, but yesterday when I talked to him on the phone he told me that Paggard had taken the rest of the week off, so we’ll go to his house first.” They arrived in the bullpen before the rest of the team, although Hotch was already on his phone in his office. Morgan got himself a cup of coffee and sat at his relatively tidy desk, happily noting the lack of case files. He smirked at the piles on Blake’s and Reid’s desk, and he knew that Rossi and JJ had probably taken some extra work on as well. 

Everyone else had filtered in by 8:30, eager and ready to take down Paggard. Hotch came out of his office and briefed them as they strapped on their sidearms and walked to the SUV, Morgan trailing behind with a jealous look on his face. “JJ, Morgan with me.” Hotch addressed the team, who was strapping on bullet-proof vests. Morgan stood to the side, arms crossed over his chest. He suppressed a laugh as Reid struggled with the Velcro straps. “Blake, Reid, and Rossi, take the second SUV. We’ll meet SWAT at the North end of the street and take a soft entry.”

As the truck drove wove through the city streets, Morgan watched the tall buildings slide by. Suddenly, as they pulled away from a stoplight, his gaze was drawn to a flutter of dark green to his side. The striped canopy of small print shop was fluttering in the breeze, but for a moment Morgan swore it was the diner where it had all gone down.

His hand subconsciously slid over his injured side, feeling the throbbing pain almost as if he were right back in the diner, with blood flowing and time counting down. At the time, he had just about given up on his own body and was concentrating solely on getting Eli out safely…but his plan had failed and in a twist of fate he had ended up killing his young friend. “Morgan?” Hotch’s voice abruptly interrupted his memories. “I said you need to stay in the SUV. You can listen in, but I don’t want you on the radio, and if you even so much as open the door I’ll extend your medical leave.”

“I get it, Hotch. I’ll stay put.” He winced, and Hotch caught it in the rearview mirror. But like JJ before, he said nothing and refocused his thoughts to the mission at hand. 

“We’re almost there.”

“What’s the plan?” Morgan asked, eliciting a glare from Hotch. “What’s your plan?” He rephrased.

“I’ll explain everything once we meet with SWAT.” Silence reigned in the car for the rest of the trip, and the team disembarked as soon as they pulled up, leaving Morgan alone in the backseat. The radio began to crackle as all of the agents tuned into the comm channel. While Hotch was giving his orders, Morgan listened as best he could, but he was distracted by his side. it had been healing so well, but without his proper meds, it was starting to throb. There wasn’t a question: after the raid, he would have to ask them to stop by a pharmacy somewhere. Suddenly, the voices fell to muted whispers. The raid had begun.

Morgan immediately felt his pulse jump as the first advances came over the radio. JJ’s voice, announcing they were in the back door just a Hotch’s team breached the front. He waited with baited breath for the climax, and with each whispered “clear” that reached him over the radio, the anticipation increased.

Finally, the voices were silenced completely. Morgan turned up the radio to full volume, hoping he wouldn’t miss anything, but the quiet inside the SUV was rent apart by the loud rhythm of gunfire, staccato interchanges punctuated by the screaming of voices, both familiar and unfamiliar. 

Not able to resist, he grabbed for the radio. His blood was pumping through his veins as he waited for the fight to abate so he could radio in for information. The last of the shots petered out, and a scramble of words jumbled in the speakers. “Status, Hotch.” Morgan commanded quickly. “Hotch, what’s going on?”

Obviously displeased, Hotch’s authoritarian voice cut through the jabbering. “Morgan, stay in the car. I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.” Morgan stared at the console, unable to stop himself from jumping to the worst conclusions. Every one of his teammates had been put in danger because of his stupid urging, and now he might have even more blood on his hands. He couldn’t resist picturing the faces of his friends as he nervously awaited explanation. He lay back, resting his head against the cushion as a sudden wave of nausea overcame him. Sirens were coming closer from the distance, increasing Morgan’s panic even more. Stupid, stupid, stupid. It wasn’t worth it. He had let his heart run away from his head, and now there were consequences.

The minutes seemed to be hours as he waited for news. Suddenly, the door opened, and Morgan instantly leaned forward. “JJ, who’s hurt?”

She took a step back in shock at the abrupt confrontation. “What are you talking about?”

“The gunshots…Hotch told me to wait here…” His anguish had subsided, leaving him a little cowed as Hotch walked up behind JJ. 

“Paggard attempted to engage us, but he missed. One of SWAT guys hit him in the shoulder, so he’s being escorted to the hospital.”

“So no one was hurt?” 

“No one.” Hotch responded. Morgan relaxed against the seat. “Are you okay?” Hotch asked discreetly, bending into the car. “You’re sweating.”

“I was just a little nervous.” Morgan replied. He shrugged off his leather jacket, pulling the sleeves over his head. 

“Morgan, stop!” Hotch commanded, grabbing his arm in a crushing grip and causing JJ to poke her head around the car door. “You’re bleeding.”

“What do you mean?” He looked down in disbelief but sure enough, a maroon stain had begun to work its way through Morgan’s green shirt. “Oh.” Hotch immediately took Morgan’s pulse, which was racing. 

“Lay down.” He instructed, pulling up Morgan’s shirt. Blood was seeping from the wound through the stitches, and the light gauze that had been covering it was almost soaked through. Hotch gently peeled the shirt up, and saw the blood spot growing on the clean, white gauze. “You’ll be fine, just some seepage. But we should to get you to a hospital. JJ, get in back with him, put some pressure on it.”

Her face was ashen as she climbed into the back seat, holding Morgan’s head on her lap so that she could fit. He was paling too, and his forehead was clammy with perspiration. “Hey there,” she soothed, smiling gently. “You’re going to be okay.”

Morgan swallowed thickly. “Is it bad?” The car lurched as Hotch pulled into traffic, the lights and sirens blaring to life. He kept sneaking peeks in the rearview mirror, struggling to see what was going on.

“No, of course not.” She said, not confident in the truthfulness of the statement. “It’s just a little blood. How are you feeling?”

“Hurts.” Morgan grunted. “I’m going to throw up.”

“Hang in there, Morgan.” Hotch said through clenched teeth. He was weaving in and out of traffic and had gotten out his cell phone to call ahead to the hospital. “JJ?” 

“He’s good, Hotch. There’s a lot of blood, but I don’t think it’s too much.” Her shaky reassurance did not do anything to assuage the urgency; if anything Hotch’s foot pressed more heavily on the accelerator. JJ’s phone rang, and she brought it to her ear with one hand while keeping the other over Morgan’s side. 

“Morgan’s gunshot wound is bleeding. No, we don’t know why. We’re on our way there now, about three minutes out.” She hung up without saying goodbye, and leaned over Morgan, pressing her lips into a close impression of a smile. “That’s right, just stay with me. Right here, Derek. Stay right here.”

Minutes later, they pulled into the emergency entrance of the hospital, met by a gurney and a team of trauma nurses. They hauled Morgan carefully out of the backseat, where his blood had left a small stain on the upholstery. By this point, he was walking the line of consciousness, dipping in and out of reality. JJ stayed by his side until she was pushed away at the doors to the ER, when she fell back to stand next to Hotch. The more she processed the chain of events, the less she understood. Turning to Hotch, she saw her own shocked confusion registering on his face. Letting out a deep breath, she fell against the wall. “What the hell just happened?”


	28. Chapter 28

Chapter 28

The rest of the team had not even gotten to Hotch and JJ through the maze of hallways before the doctor came out. “Agent Morgan is going to be fine,” he said, holding his hands up reassuringly. “His blood pressure spiked and his pulse soared for no apparent reason, but we got it back under control and he will be fine.”

The grimace on Hotch’s face spoke volume. “It was my fault doctor, I allowed him to ride along on a mission that he was particularly involved in; the anxiety must have brought on his symptoms.”

“What’s done is done.” The man responded carefully, “But he should be under strict bed rest for the next three days or so. Is there someone to stay with him?”

“I will.” JJ felt the response burble out of her unexpectedly, but as soon as she said it, she knew it was the right response. Hotch looked at her sideways, offering her the opportunity to retract her words. “I’ll take some days off of work. Lord knows I have enough vacation time built up.”

“Good. I’ll give you more instructions in an hour or so when we release him, I just want him resting for a while. I’ve also given him a new prescription for oxycodone that he should follow to the letter; he let his other meds run out and had never filled the second prescription that he had been given.”

“I’ll make sure of it.” JJ said, taking the sheet of paper that the doctor held out. “Can we see him?”

“Of course. He’s alert, and probably in a bit of pain because we’re waiting for most of the morphine to metabolize before starting him on the oxycodone, but his room’s just down the hallway on the left. Room 517.”

Hotch thanked him and walked with JJ down the hallway to Morgan’s room. “It feels like we just did this a week ago.” He said, watching a small smile sneak onto her face. 

“As long as we don’t have to do it again next week.” She responded lightly. She checked something on her cell phone, ignoring Hotch’s probing gaze.

“JJ, are you sure you’re okay to stay with Morgan? You have a family of your own. What about them?”

“Garcia or Reid can cover for me at night so I can go home and be with Henry. But Hotch…Morgan’s family too. I’m worried about him.”

“We all are. This path he’s on…I doubt it will have a happy ending.”

“At least not the ending Morgan wants.” She agreed. “What’s going to happen to Paggard?”

“Depends on how much evidence they found at the house. We can probably get him enough consecutive sentences to merit life without parole if the prosecutor can prove that he was involved in all of the cases we find, however fleetingly.” As they walked into the room, Morgan was in the process of standing up from his bed, maneuvering the IV stand so he could walk around.

“And what do you think you’re doing?” JJ chastised, walking over and giving him a long hug. He still felt so sturdy, despite the fact that she had cradled his head in her arms just over an hour ago. “I thought you were supposed to be in bed.”

“Not when there’s no one watching.” Morgan said cheekily. Upon noticing his boss in the doorway, he grew suitably abashed. “Hotch, I…”

Hotch cut him off. “It was my bad judgment too, Morgan. There won’t be any consequences, as long as you continue to follow your doctor’s orders. Which right now, means laying down.”

“And once you’re released, I’m staying with you for a couple of days.” It was a statement of fact, and Morgan understood his lack of options in this case. 

“You were a good baby-sitter in high school, weren’t you?” He teased, climbing back into bed. “But honestly, you guys, I feel fine.”

“Fine? The doctor we just spoke to informed us that you would probably be in pain right about now.” Hotch’s face was stern, as if he had just about had enough of Morgan’s antics.

“Nothing noticeable.” Morgan amended. “So when do I get out of here?”

“An hour. If you stay in bed.” JJ interjected. “Three days if you don’t.” She laid a hand on his shoulder, idly patting it to take the sting out of her sarcasm. “And even more if Garcia catches you!”

“Catches him doing what?” A voice piped up from the doorway. Garcia bustled into the room as JJ and Hotch stepped aside, letting her beeline for Morgan. She hugged him tightly and buried her head in his shoulder. “You need to stop doing this.”

“Garcia, it wasn’t my fault.”

“That’s funny, because I still blame you. Why on earth did you go along on the raid?” Her frustration was real, and now that she knew Morgan would be alright, it was coming out in full force. 

“I had to—Garcia, you know I couldn’t just sit back and watch this happen. It was just an accident.” Suddenly, Morgan’s eyes widened, looking over Garcia’s shoulder. The team turned to follow his gaze and landed on Sarah Dunn, standing hesitantly in the doorway, arms crossed tightly over her chest. “Sarah, what are you doing here?”

“They gave me some days off from work, so I thought that I would come back and see you…I just…didn’t know what else to do.” Her face was gaunt, but she did not look as terrible as she had when the team had last seen her. Hotch murmured something and ushered the team out into the hallway, closing the door behind him. 

Morgan sat up as straight as he could against the incline of the bed, and Sarah came to him, pulling up a chair. “I’m so glad you came.” Morgan said gently. “I went after the guy who sold Helmsley the gun. We got him; he’s in custody.” The pride in Morgan’s voice was evident, but Sarah struggled to make sense of the news.

“You what? Who?”

“His name was Paggard. I tracked him down, and the team just arrested him this morning. We found evidence; there were illegal weapons at the house. He’s done Sarah. He won’t be able to hurt anyone else.”

“Derek, I thought you were taking time off of work. That’s why I came down here.” 

“I am now. The Paggard thing…Sarah, I just needed to do something. For Eli, for David. I mean, they were just kids.” He took her hand, squeezing it tightly. “I had to do it.”

“Derek, I don’t blame you.”

“I know that.” He said heavily. “I’m not blaming myself either. Don’t you see? It was Helmsley’s fault, and Paggard’s, for giving David the gun.”

“You’re just trying to use him to justify what happened. Don’t you see? You’re using Paggard as a way to get around your own fault in the matter, but Derek, you don’t need to.” Tears welled in her soft brown eyes as she entreated him to understand. “Eli’s gone, and you’re here. You think he would want you to carry this around for the rest of your life?”

“I can’t just let what happened go. It’s in my head, whether I like it or not.”

“But you can let go of the guilt. “You need to trust yourself again. You’re one of the bravest, most loyal men that I’ve ever known, and your team feels that too. But you’re so proud that you can’t openly admit what’s eating at you. I can tell, Derek, that you’re not satisfied. You got a guy. Got him off the streets, protected some kids. But you didn’t get the guy. Because that guy, the one you’re searching for…it’s just going to lead you back to yourself.” Morgan was mute, but Sarah could tell some part of her words had finally taken root in his mind. “Please, Derek.” Her voice was small as she added her last sentence, the words plowing into Morgan’s soul. “If you won’t do it for yourself, then please…please…do it for Eli.”

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FlynnWriter: Thanks for reading! I have a hawaii five-o story in the works and have published some of it on here and on my fanfiction profile under the same name. The fanfiction profile also contains some other CM stories if you're interested.


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